If We Ever See the Sun
by L.C. Carraway
Summary: When the outbreak of World War V threatens Illéa's peace, King Oliver is faced with a fearful, divided nation and torn between action and isolation. To distract and unify his people, Oliver turns to his dutiful heir. Plagued by anxiety and inexperienced in love, Prince Nolan doesn't feel ready for a Selection. But he'd do anything for Illéa, so the next Selection begins. SYOC
1. Prologue

**Author's Note** : Welcome to IWESTS! This is the sequel to _Holding_ , but they can definitely be read as stand alone stories. This is purposely vague, but it's just the prologue so don't freak out (although I would love to know what you thought in the reviews). I know I said I was going to wait until Valentine's Day to post this, but you can thank wolfofstark, who is this story's cool aunt. She hyped me up and made me do it. This is a SYOC, and if you want to send in a character, all the info is on my profile. I may add more spots, so if you're unsure, just PM me :)

* * *

For a moment, there was nothing.

It was a strange enigma that in a world determined to fall to hell there was even a brief second of peace. The merciless wind had ceased to howl, no bullets ricocheted towards aimless targets, and not a soul spoke. There were no frenzied movements, no exclamations of pain, or a single curse to the victim's god of choice. Just an empty, ominous silence.

He'd made peace with his fate that morning. Nothing waited for him on the other side of the day, so he clung to the singular moment of relief with a ferocity that almost shocked him.

Across the empty field, his eyes locked with the hardened, cold gaze of another. He took a deep breath in and waited. It was a simple chain of events, one that he had set into action too many times himself in the last few months: pull of trigger, rush of bullet, end of life.

In his preparation for the end, he didn't notice the speck of black that was slowly growing in the early morning sky. But when he saw the Illéan crest on the side of the aircraft, his heart skipped a beat.

For the first time in days, he allowed himself the thought: they could make it, they could go home.

All the helicopter had to do was beat the bullet.

But it didn't, of course, and when the rush came, it was so much worse than he'd ever imagined it—because the bullet didn't hit him.

The silence was over. Hell had returned in all its fury.

Blood exploded from the site of impact, and his eyes widened in shock as he turned to the man next to him. Boy, really. Not yet twenty-five. An entire life ahead of him.

An entire life that was being stolen.

The boy stumbled, and he caught the bleeding body in his arms, though he felt paralyzed. Another rough pair of arms grabbed him. The blonde man standing before him looked so much like someone he'd known years ago. "We have to go!"

"Go." The boy coughed, blood spattering the snow. "You have to." A short distance away, the helicopter nearly crash-landed, mere minutes too late.

The arms tugged at him, but he resisted. "I'm not leaving you," he growled.

The exasperated blonde beside him returned a volley of bullets in the direction of their pursuers. "Whatever we're doing, we need to do it _now_!"

"Go." The injured boy shoved at him. "You have to—" He gulped as the blood began to pool in his throat, choking him. "You have to tell her—"

He shook his head. "You're going to tell her," he countered. His eyes were hot, and his vision blurred as the cruel realization began to settle on him. He tried to ignore it. "We're going home," he insisted, and although it caused the bleeding boy to gasp in pain, he pulled him to his feet. "Help me!"

With a last flurry of shots, their golden-haired companion caught the injured soldier under his arm, and together, the trio stumbled towards the helicopter. The door slid open, and a woman helped to pull them in. Before the door had even shut again, she ordered the pilot to take off.

Sweat, blood, and muddy snow dirtied the floor of the helicopter as they lowered the dying— _please_ , God, not dying—man to the floor. The other two fell to their knees. The three had been together through a lot, and now, without the guns and adversaries to distract him, the flaxen man's face was streaked with tears.

"It's going to be okay," the blonde insisted.

He nodded his agreement, even though it was becoming hard to ignore the pallor that had grown in the young face. "No," smiled the youth, "It's not."

All they had left to give was words. They assured him it was going to work out, promised to do whatever he requested, begged him not to die. But when the boy's breathing stilled, that was it. An unfinished life ended. A long string of heartbreak and sorrow begun.

The remaining man put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. He wasn't sure if it was supposed to be comforting, but it was only painful as the blonde man was overcome by his own grief. Yet the grip reminded him that he was alive. He could feel. He could act.

And he could promise. He swore to himself, to God, to the dead body of one of the best men he'd ever known—he was going to make them pay. He was going to burn their entire country to the ground.


	2. 137 Days Before

**Author's Note:** Hello! Thank you so much for the response to the prologue, I was truly overwhelmed. In my excitement, I did start accepting reservations, which I quickly realized was sort of overwhelming/stressful for me. I'm just going to let whoever wants to send a character in through PM until two weeks from now when I will evaluate them all and pick the 16 that I feel work best for the story. I know this might be a deterrent to some, as there's no guarantee that your character will get in, but I've put so much work into this story that that's just the way I'm going to do it. Also, to my guest reviewer Ally, I'm so sorry, but I can't accept any characters other than the Selected. As you know from reading _Holding_ , it already had a large cast, and I really don't have room for any extra characters. I'm really sorry. Hoping everyone enjoys this chapter, and if you've sent a character and your opinion of Nolan is affected after this, always feel free to just amend your form.

Happy Valentine's Day to everyone! (wolf convinced me it counts since it's already Tuesday in some places)

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Chapter One: 137 Days Before

The tarmac was hot in the summer sun, but it didn't deter the couple that waited outside of their black town car. The man stood tall in a dark charcoal suit, his arm wrapped around the woman beside him. They were an attractive couple: impeccable posture, glossy brunette heads, and with an air of elegance that cannot be learned. Both wore dark sunglasses to protect their eyes from the sun, and despite the heat, both seemed excited.

The front passenger door of the town car opened, and an older man in a suit stepped out. "Their ETA is two minutes, Your Majesty," the man announced.

King Oliver Woodwork-Schreave grinned. His wife, Queen Maelys Woodwork-Schreave, glanced up at him, a smirk on her tan, unlined face. "Excited?" she asked.

Oliver shrugged. "'Course not," he countered sarcastically, "I just like spending my free time boiling on random plane runways."

She slipped an arm around her husband's waist. "I missed him too," she assured him comfortingly.

A plane appeared at the end of the runway and bounced against the black tarmac for a moment as it deaccelerated. The royal couple waited anxiously at their car until the aircraft came to a halt, and a flight of stairs descended to the ground. A guard appeared and jogged down the steps before he transmitted an approval into his earpiece, and another guard emerged with a young, dark haired man.

As Prince Nolan Woodwork-Schreave approached, it was difficult to determine whether his mother or father was more excited to see him. They tried to contain their enthusiasm for a brief moment before both gave up and rushed towards him. Oliver reached him first—Mae cursed her heels—and pulled his son to his chest. "You've gotten taller!" he proclaimed when he finally brought himself to release Nolan and realized that he was eye level with the boy who had been at least an inch shorter when he had left a few months ago.

Nolan shrugged. "The Mediterranean air does wonders?" he suggested as his mother took her turn and squeezed her firstborn.

"We've missed you _too_ much," Mae declared, "Your dad threatened to put me on the 'no fly' list, because I tried to come visit a few times."

"A few?" Oliver cocked an eyebrow. "At _least_ a dozen."

Nolan smiled and kissed his mother's cheek. "Well, you _did_ manage to bring me home a whole month early," he pointed out, "Although I'm still not sure why."

He studied his parents as they both pointedly avoided each other's gaze as well as his. Oliver forced a laugh and shrugged, "Summer can't last forever. Have you talked to your sister lately?" He turned and opened the car door for his wife and son, neither of whom mentioned that Oliver had completely ignored his son's inquiry.

Nolan made a point to dig a little more deeply into the cause of his sudden extradition from the African continent later, and instead, he decided to go along with the casual conversation for the moment. "Just briefly over a video chat a few days ago," he admitted, "She seemed… worried."

While Nolan loved both of his parents immensely, neither had ever been very good liars. Now, Oliver merely offered a "hmmm" while Mae muttered, "Oh, wonder why," and they both turned to stare out their respective windows. Nolan rolled his eyes before he acquiesced, "Alright, alright. We can pretend everything is fine for a little bit longer."

As the car sped towards the Illéan palace, Oliver focused the attention on his son. "How was your trip?" he asked, "Emperor Mosi told me that he was quite impressed by your work ethic."

He watched as his son sat a little taller under the praise. Although Oliver and Mae had been involved parents and worked to instill a strong self-confidence in their children, Oliver noticed that Nolan often strived for the praise of others. He supposed it was an effect of the unique position that being the heir to the throne put one in, the pressures of which very few people could understand.

"It was an amazing time," sighed Nolan, "We met so many people. I think we visited at least half of the villages in Sahara. Alex was the real rock star, though."

Oliver rolled his eyes, while his wife smiled at the mention of their only daughter's longtime boyfriend. "Did he decide to stay there indefinitely?" Oliver asked hopefully.

Nolan laughed. "No," he countered, "He just had a few more vaccination appointments that he wanted to finish. He, for some reason, wasn't subjected to your immediate summons to return like I was."

"Hmm." Oliver shrugged. "Must've been an oversight."

Mae playfully smacked his arm. "Be nice."

Once again, Oliver's eyes fluttered skyward. "Of course," he scoffed, "I forgot how much you adore _Saint_ Alex." He turned to his son. "She probably laments that Lea met him first."

Mae narrowed her green eyes at her husband. "Only when you act like this," she teased as she stuck her tongue out at him. "Alex is a sweet boy and treats Lea so well. _And_ he's such a good friend to Nolan."

Oliver groaned. "Let me just enjoy an 'Alex Havilland free' zone until he comes back, please?"

"Speaking of 'come back'…" Nolan began.

"Oh, look," Oliver interjected, throwing open the door to the car before it had fully slowed. The driver slammed on the breaks in response, unsettling both Oliver's wife and son. "We're home."

And before Nolan could finish his inquiry, he'd swept off into the palace.

He realized it was silly to be running from one's child—strategically avoiding, he called it in his head—but Oliver hurried to his study before Nolan and Mae could catch up to him. He gave his butler, Anderson, instructions that he'd prefer not to be disturbed and settled himself at the highbacked chair at his desk.

The truth was, the reason that he'd forced his son to return from a summer spent building houses, schools, and providing free health services in Sahara was complicated. It was also information that he wasn't very eager to share with anyone in Illéa, even if that person was his heir.

Oliver was only half surprised when his wife swept into the room a few minutes later. "I told Anderson no visitors," he sighed.

"Yes, he mentioned that," Mae shrugged. "You can't keep it a secret from him forever, Oliver."

Oliver sighed and pressed a button under his desk. A large painting on the opposite wall of his study slid to the side, revealing a world map.

The reigns of both Oliver's mother and grandfather had been mostly peaceful. When he'd taken over seventeen years ago, tensions had been rising throughout the world. He'd watched the situations closely and focused much of his attention as king between bolstering Illéa's protections and improving foreign relations so that action from their armed forces would never be necessary.

Unfortunately, Oliver had a bit of a nemesis, a nemesis who tended to be a bit confrontational.

Since before either of them had been rulers, Tsar Nikolai Dragomirov had been a thorn in Oliver's side. He remembered the first time he'd met Nikolai, when the Russians had come to visit for the Harvest Festival, an annual Illéan celebration that foreign dignitaries were often invited to as a show of goodwill. The grand duke had been arrogant, rude, and inflammatory. Unfortunately, he was also married to a member of the family that had always been the biggest threat to Oliver's reign, the Illéas.

Needless to say, there wasn't much of a relationship between Russia and Illéa. Oliver tried to avoid them as best as he could, instead focusing on creating allies and strengthening preexisting ties. For the most part, it worked well.

But it was becoming harder for Oliver to ignore Russia. Nikolai no longer contented himself with the country that he'd never been meant to rule. In the last few months, he'd absorbed a few of Russia's neighbors to the west. They were smaller countries, like Ukraine and Romania, and didn't (or couldn't) put up much of a fight, but it had put the other large nations of the world on alert. He'd been pushing at the border of the German Federation recently, irritating a good many rulers in the process.

Oliver's eyes swept over the map on his wall. There were a few countries that had red pins in them. They represented countries that were actively engaged in conflict with Russia currently. To Oliver's distress, the red pins kept growing.

He sighed as he grabbed a pin off his desk and approached the map. Mae's concerned gaze followed him. "Mosi said that he's sending an emissary to Central Africa," he told his wife as he pulled the green pin—neutral—from Central Africa. He replaced it with a black pin—aligned with Russia. It wasn't official, but it was real enough for Oliver to order his son to fly home from Sahara immediately. If there was any active conflict, Nolan wasn't going to be near it.

"Neema is hopeful that they'll be able to resolve the border issues without conflict," Mae remarked, in reference to the Saharan emperor's wife.

Oliver snorted. "There have been border disputes between Sahara and Central Africa for nearly twenty years," countered Oliver, "If they have Nikolai's support, there'll be conflict."

Mae's brow furrowed. "You're worried," she concluded.

"I'm always worried," Oliver managed to laugh as he dropped back into his chair and rubbed a hand over his weary face. "It's the reason I look like an old man while you're still as beautiful as you were the first day of the Selection."

Mae smiled warmly and leaned against the edge of Oliver's desk, taking her husband's hands in hers. "Whatever happens, we'll get through it," she promised him, "Together. Like always."

She was always so hopeful, though not blindly so. She knew just as well as he did that the invasion of a country so closely allied to Illéa as Sahara was a huge problem. If they openly declared war, as the German Federation, Swendway, and Britannia had, Oliver would be forced to make a decision. Until this point, he'd kept Illéa technically neutral while offering his condemnation of Russia's actions and verbal support to the countries that had combined forces against Nikolai.

He sighed and pulled his wife into his lap, wrapping his arms around her. "What do you think Nolan will say about the Selection?" he asked as he rested his chin on her shoulder.

Royal heirs typically had their Selection around their nineteenth birthdays. Oliver's had been a little later at twenty and was his mother's attempt to rein in her wild son. Although he'd only discussed his true feelings with his brother and wife, Nolan's Selection had a purpose as well: the people of Illéa all seemed to have very strong feelings about war, whether they thought the king should have openly declared on Russia already or whether they were staunchly anti-war. Oliver hoped that the Selection would be able to distract them from the country's tenuous position in world politics.

"I hope he's excited," Mae admitted, "But even if he's not, you know he'll do it and do it well."

It was true. Nolan was the perfect heir, not the slightest bit as problematic as Oliver had been as a teenager, a fact that his mother frequently (and bitterly) remarked upon.

"Can we tell him before we bring in the whole council and start hammering out the details?" frowned Oliver. "I just don't want him to feel ambushed like I did."

Mae laughed softly and kissed her husband. "You're king," she reminded him, "You can do whatever you want."

"If only that were true," sighed Oliver.

* * *

"Which looks kinglier?" Nolan turned to his body guard and alternated holding the two ties he was stuck between up to his shirt.

Jonathan snorted. "I'm no expert, Your Highness, but maybe pass on the polka dots."

Nolan turned to the mirror and considered Jonathan's suggestion. "Good choice," he decided as he cast the other tie aside and began securing the solid, royal blue tie around his neck.

"It's just a meeting with your parents, you know," Jonathan pointed out, obviously trying to contain a smile.

"The king and queen," Nolan corrected him. "One should be prepared for such things."

Jonathan choked back his laughter. "If you could have only seen your father at your age."

"I've heard it was a fearsome thing," replied Nolan as he completed his look with a tie clip. He took a deep breath and declared, "Alright, let's go."

"We're twenty minutes early."

Nolan turned to Jonathan, and his body guard groaned. "I asked for it," sighed Jonathan.

"'Punctuality is the stern virtue of men of business and the graceful courtesy of princes,'" Nolan quipped. It was a quote he'd read from an English novelist from before Illéa's time, as well as one of his favorite and most repeated maxims. There were few things that Nolan valued more than punctuality.

Unfortunately, his early arrival also gave Nolan enough time to get nervous. It wasn't that he was afraid of his parents or only viewed them as the king and queen. But this was different than a casual chat with mom and dad. A scheduled meeting meant an audience with the rulers and such things made Nolan nervous, regardless of his status.

Although King Oliver had become one of the most beloved monarchs in Illéan history, Nolan knew that his father hadn't always been a shoe in for the job. For all of his title as crown prince, the prospect of being king wasn't something that Oliver had particularly embraced until the start of the Selection that had united him with Mae.

Nolan was different. Nolan had never questioned whether he was the person to rule the country or shied from his responsibilities. In stark contrast to his father, Nolan's problem had always been that he wanted to take on too many duties too quickly. His early adolescence had been marked with frustration at being denied entry to official meetings or his father remarking, "I'll explain when you're older" when Nolan had always felt ready to take care of his country.

It might've stemmed from a slight insecurity that he wasn't the right person for the job, technically.

Despite being formally declared as his father's heir at his fourteenth birthday party years earlier, Nolan had always been plagued by the idea that he might have lucked into the position. Traditionally, the heir was the monarch's eldest child, with the exception of extenuating circumstances.

His extenuating circumstance came in the form of his twin sister, Leanna.

It shouldn't have been too much of an issue, truthfully. Even though they were twins, one _had_ to be older, even if only by a few minutes.

But while Nolan would admit that he had two of the best parents that anyone could ask for, there was one thing that they'd done throughout his life that drove him absolutely crazy: they'd never told anyone, not even his uncle Tristan, who was his father's brother _and_ Lord Chancellor, which twin was older.

Nolan supposed that whoever had delivered them had to know, but he'd never been able to track said person down. He'd asked for every Christmas present. He'd wished on shooting stars, fallen eyelashes, and birthday candles. But whatever his parents' reasoning was, they'd never told him. "Does it matter?" Oliver had laughed dismissively the last time Nolan had asked, "You're the heir. The job is yours."

But to Nolan, it _did_ matter. He wanted to know that he was his father's heir because he was best suited for it, not because he was the obvious choice as the oldest. Even if his dad was a good king _now_ , it seemed like his grandmother had kept the line of succession in place to hold with tradition, despite whether his uncle Tristan would've been a better leader. They were lucky things had worked out.

Not that he believed Lea was more suited to be queen. He loved his sister, and they'd always been close, but they were very different people. Lea was a free spirit, more indulgent and less serious than her brother. Besides, she'd never wanted to be queen. They'd taken all the same lessons as children until Nolan's education became more specialized and steered towards being king, and he would never forget her response when their disappointed economics tutor had demanded how she would be queen if she didn't study more: "Why would I want to be queen when I'm _already_ a princess?" she'd asked before flitting off in search of their painting instructor, whose lessons she enjoyed much more.

The door to his father's study opened, and Nolan jumped to attention. "Come in."

The king's study was one of Nolan's favorite rooms in the entire palace. It was a little more traditional than some of the renovated areas of the palace, with deep, dark woods floors, two floor-to-ceiling windows, and elegant decorations. Instead of lounging in her usual position—an emerald green settee that had been added to the room expressly so that Mae could be comfortable while keeping Oliver company during his work—his mom stood beside his dad's chair.

"Hi," Nolan smiled nervously. He wiped his clammy hands discreetly on the sides of his pants as he sat down across from his dad.

If Nolan was nervous, Oliver seemed petrified, which Nolan did not find comforting. Oliver glanced up at Mae, and she cleared her throat, "We wanted to talk to you, sweetheart, about something that we hope you'll be excited about."

Oliver nodded. "Exactly. It's not a punishment," he added. Mae rolled her eyes, and Oliver grimaced, as though he realized that addition wasn't exactly helpful.

"Uh… Okay," Nolan replied cautiously.

There was a long silence before Oliver heaved a sigh. "Obviously, you know there's a reason we brought you home from Sahara early," he began. Nolan nodded but contented himself with listening (and admittedly inwardly praising himself; he _knew_ something had been up).

"Things… aren't good," Oliver frowned. "Russia is becoming more contentious, and it looks like they've combined strength with Central Africa. I'm hoping we can deescalate things before they get much worse. It's a very precarious situation right now. But my concern, for the moment, as always, is Illéa."

Nolan nodded, his face grim. "Of course," he agreed, "And if there's anything that I can do to help, Dad, I want to."

His parents exchanged a relieved glance that made Nolan's stomach flutter somewhat. "Well… there is something that we wanted to talk to you about," admitted Oliver.

"You and your sister are going to be twenty soon," Mae began.

"And with everything that's going on, we thought it could be a good idea…" continued Oliver nervously.

"It was such a good experience for us," Mae smiled as she took her husband's hand.

"We think it's time for your Selection," concluded Oliver with an excited grin in his son's direction.

There was a long moment of silence, in which Nolan's parents' excited smiles slowly shifted to concern and Nolan worked to process the news.

He'd known since he was fourteen that at some point he would have a Selection. The heir always did. It was a tradition, one that had a long history of success in his family.

But now, he couldn't wrap his head around it. A _Selection_.

"Okay," he nodded, "A Selection."

Thirty-five _girls_.

He started to sweat and rose from his chair. His mother began to take a step towards him but paused. "A Selection," he repeated.

Finding the _One_.

The temperature in the room had to have climbed at least ten degrees, and Nolan clawed at his perfectly knotted tie. "A Selection?" The word felt foreign in his mouth.

Getting _married_.

"Nolan?" his mother asked nervously as he paced. Oliver rose from his chair as well, concern etched in the lines of his face.

And then, suddenly, it all burst through, like water overflowing a dam.

He'd never dated anyone before! He hadn't even had his first kiss! How could he possibly have a Selection when they were facing down a _war_? What would the girls think of him? Would they think he was only going to be king because he was the older twin? Was he the older twin? Oh, God, his parents probably expected him to say something. What _was_ there to say?

He tried to speak but realized that he could hardly breathe. His heart was thundering against his chest, all the while his ribcage started to contract, crushing his lungs, pushing them too close to his heart, which was pumping far too quickly, and sweat was rolling down his face and soaking through his shirt, and his hands were shaking, and his whole body was shaking, and his vision quivered, and the blood was rushing in his ears, preventing him from focusing on his parents, who were trying to talk him down. He knew what they were saying: inhale, count to three, exhale, count to ten, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale, inhale, inhale—

It wouldn't work this time. He was dying. He couldn't make his heart stop and couldn't make his lungs expand and couldn't focus and couldn't stop it.

His parents sprang into action: Oliver dashed to grab him a glass of water while Mae rushed to his side and fished a bottle from the pocket of her dress. She uncapped it swiftly and pushed a pill into Nolan's hand just as Oliver returned with the water. He shakily threw the pill into his mouth as his father held the water up for him, both of his parents offering encouragement as they tried to calm him.

It took a few minutes, but eventually, his breathing evened out, and he stopped shaking enough to allow his parents to guide him to the emerald settee. "I'm sorry," he frowned into his water.

"Don't be," countered Oliver swiftly. "It's a lot to process. I think my reaction had some yelling and maybe knocking things on the floor."

Nolan flushed. "Yeah, well, that's better than a panic attack," he mumbled.

It wasn't the first time it had happened, and he highly doubted it would be the last. A nervous thought erupted in his mind, demanding to know what he would do if one of the girls from his Selection saw him when he was in the merciless grasp of his anxiety. The only thing that stopped his panic from spiking again was the medicine already coursing through his veins.

His grip around the glass of water tightened, drawing the blood from his knuckles and leaving them pale. He'd tried all summer to stop the medication. It had been better in Sahara, easier, but he should've known that he'd be helpless as soon as he returned to his real life in Illéa.

"You don't have to do it if you don't want to," his mother offered, and when Nolan turned to meet her gaze—the green eyes that he and his sister had both inherited—he could see that she meant every word she said. Although she was loved by her people and fulfilled her duties as queen well, being a mother had always been more important to her, a point that occasionally put her at odds with Nolan's grandmother, Eadlyn.

He glanced at his father, and Oliver nodded. "We can do something else," he shrugged, "I can take care of Illéa. I just want to make sure I'm taking care of you, too."

Regardless of the pressure that he put on himself as the future king, Nolan had never felt similar pressure from his parents. Even before the heir had been officially declared, if he or Lea had wanted to take a day off from royal duties, their parents had always made it happen. They were well prepared for the role if it was ever required of them, but Nolan also had a feeling that they had a far more normal childhood than the princes and princesses that came before them.

"No," decided Nolan, "I can do it." He paused before he added, "I _want_ to do it. I want to help Illéa. And if this is the way to do it… then let's get it going."

Mae still looked concerned, but Oliver held his son's gaze for a long minute. "You mean that?"

Nolan nodded firmly. "Yes. Let's have the Selection."

A wide smile transformed Oliver's face, and Nolan's jittery pulse finally returned to normal as he saw the pride on his father's face. "Alright," he declared, "Get ready for the experience of a lifetime."

"No pressure though," added Oliver when he saw Nolan's face blanch slightly.

Nolan tried to laugh, but the sound died in his throat. It went unnoticed by his parents, though, who were already excitedly discussing the logistics. _No pressure at all_ , Nolan thought to himself, _just trying to distract the country from the fact that we're on the brink of another world war by finding my wife._

What could possibly go wrong?


	3. 134 Days Before

**Author's Note:** Hello, all :) I've had these background chapters written for forever, so that's why I've updated three times this week (also I'm impatient). Definitely don't expect this frequency once the story gets rolling. The hugest, happiest, most grateful THANK YOU to everyone who has reviewed, faved, followed, sent in a character, and made me feel like the happiest camper this week. The next chapter does introduce a few Selected, so I'll be picking about three characters from the bunch that I have by Monday, but you'll still have a week after Monday to get characters in for consideration for the other 13 spots. Also, random question - to those who haven't read _Holding_ , would it be helpful for me to put the countries/their rulers on my profile? I introduce a few just in conversation in this chapter, but if a list would be more helpful, just let me know. UPDATE: Foreign royals/countries on my profile

* * *

Chapter Two: 134 Days Before

Nolan reclined on the dove gray couch with his feet propped up on an arm and his face buried in his hands. In that moment, he would've traded every cent the Schreave family had, the crown jewels, and the palace's annual budget to be someone other than himself. "Really, Nol," the woman sitting across from him smiled encouragingly, "It wasn't that bad."

But he had come prepared for this counterargument, and he swung into an upright position as he grabbed a newspaper from his back pocket. "Not that bad, Aunt Pres?" he demanded as he unfolded the paper. "'Tipping Point for Our Perfect Prince: Inside Nolan's Selection Disinterest,'" he read from the front page.

But Presley Phineas, a member of Oliver's Selection and therefore a veteran when it came to dramatic princes, simply smiled. "Nolan," she began comfortingly, "It's your first piece of bad press. Ever."

"It's all downhill from here," he groaned as he threw himself back into a prostrate position.

He should have known it was a stupid idea. Amid the never-ending preparations throughout the week, Nolan had worried about the Selection announcement on _The Report_ that Friday more than anything else. He'd written a speech—a very good one, if he did say so himself—and spent so many hours practicing in his room that even Jonathan knew it word by word by the time Friday arrived.

It wasn't that he was bad at public speaking in general. He wasn't as much of a natural as his father, but he put in enough preparation that his speeches were usually quite good. But when he'd been standing backstage before _The Report_ , nervous sweat soaking through his button-up shirt, he'd realized he couldn't do it. He couldn't announce to the entire country that he was about to begin the process of finding his wife. No preparation or anxiety medicine would have been enough.

Terrified and ashamed, he'd gone to his parents and explained that if they wanted the announcement to come in coherent English, someone else would have to do it. Oliver had swiftly offered to take the burden from his son, and while Nolan talked at length about the summer that he spent in Sahara with Coen Franco, the show's host, when it came time to discuss the Selection, the camera turned to his father.

Nolan hadn't been relieved after the fact, and it felt like all his fears were confirmed that morning when the paper had been delivered to his room along with his breakfast.

They thought that he didn't want to do the Selection. They were confused as to why their king and not their crown prince had made the announcement.

And it made sense, when Nolan thought about it. He should've pulled himself together. He should've done something—anything—but he should've forced himself to do it.

Now the new fears were piling up. What if no one entered? Why would they when it looked like he was disinterested? What if they thought he wasn't even interested in being king now? What if this meant that they didn't like him anymore?

It had taken around an hour of ranting on these numerous preoccupations before his mother had called Aunt Presley. Aside from being a close family friend—and the mother of one of Nolan's best friends, Orlando—Presley had a background in psychology. Since she was one of the few people his parents trusted with intimate details of the royal family, she'd been acting as Nolan's therapist for the last few years since his anxiety had peaked when he was seventeen.

Now, Presley didn't look convinced by his dramatics. "What's really bothering you?" she asked in her soothing yet perceptive voice.

Nolan chewed his bottom lip as he stared at the crown molding on the ceiling. A few minutes passed before he admitted, "I don't want people to know how afraid I am."

"About the Selection?" Presley asked. "It's normal to be afraid of something like this. You should have seen your father." She chuckled to herself at the memory.

"It's not just that though," sighed Nolan as he turned his head towards her, "The Selection might be a normal thing to be afraid of. But I'm afraid of _everything_. How many people have to take a pill to calm them down because they've messed up a national budget report or before they meet foreign dignitaries?"

Presley's gaze softened. "Nolan," she began more seriously, "There is nothing wrong with you. You deal with a very unique type of pressure. Not a lot of people _have_ to deal with national finances or foreign relations."

It was a speech that he'd heard a thousand times, and he sighed in frustration. "Dad doesn't need medicine," he pointed out, "Alex is a doctor. He literally saves people's lives. He doesn't need medicine."

The brown eyes opposite him looked sad. "I say this as both your therapist as well as someone who cares about you," Presley declared, "You need to learn to be easier on yourself. You're nineteen, Nolan. You have time to learn how to be king."

 _But I might not_ , he thought as his mind flitted to the worry that had plagued his father's face as Oliver had told him about the problems that Russia was coming. What if they were plunged into war? Oliver wouldn't be able to teach him and fight off enemy attacks.

He sighed. His anxiety hadn't disappeared, but the idea of trying to explain the depth of his concerns felt more daunting to Nolan than silently dealing with it for the time being. He forced a smile. "Thanks, Aunt Pres."

It was clear that he wasn't fooling her, but Presley didn't push it. "Give me a call if you need me, alright?" she instructed as she set his chart aside and stood to hug him, "You know I'm here for you whenever."

Nolan dutifully promised he would before he made his way back to his room on the third floor. He walked absentmindedly, his brain already spinning with ways that he could do damage control. They could release a statement to claim he'd miraculously lost his voice, or he could do an exclusive interview with Coen—and maybe a teleprompter—or he could have Uncle Tristan force the newspaper to issue a retraction. He sighed hesitantly. Maybe forcing a retraction wasn't a good idea, but it still made him feel better to know that it was something he could do if necessary.

When he walked into his room, he headed towards his bed and grabbed the notepad that he always kept on the nightstand. He scribbled down some of the less terrible ideas, making a mental note to discuss it with his parents tomorrow morning.

"Writing in your diary again?"

The voice startled him so badly that his pen jumped across the paper, cutting a harsh line through his neat list. " _Lea_ ," he complained with a glare at his sister, "How many times do I have to ask you not to sneak up on me? And it's a _journal,_ not a diary. Aunt Presley says it's a good way to manage my stress."

Lea rolled her eyes and jumped onto his bed, crinkling the neatly tucked duvet. "Whatever." She hopped a few times, just to really irritate her brother, before she fell onto the bed beside him. "So, how are you?" the princess asked, her emerald eyes searching for his. While fraternal, the twins did resemble each other remarkably: bright green eyes, wavy brunette hair, somewhat olive complexions, and tall, thin frames. Nolan was barely six feet tall—his cousin, Bayer, maintained that the prince was only 5'11"—and Lea was often the same height as her brother when she wore heels.

Nolan gave a small shrug of his shoulders, unable to meet Lea's gaze. One of the stark differences between the twins was that Lea had always been so outgoing and confident in herself, if a little reckless and self-centered. "I just feel stupid," complained Nolan, "Why did I think it was a good idea to let my _dad_ make the announcement?"

"Oh, stop it," ordered Lea. "People make their parents do things for them all the time. You know Alex just started making his own dentist appointments?"

Although he'd never heard it before, her statement sounded very like her boyfriend, and Nolan smiled unwillingly. "This isn't exactly my yearly check-up though, Lee," he sighed. "I don't know. I just really don't want to mess this up."

It was Lea's turn to frown. "As I have spent the last nineteen years telling you," she began, "you need to lighten up, Nol. I'm genuinely shocked you haven't given yourself an ulcer yet."

"Well, at least I'm consistent?" shrugged Nolan. "I don't know. I just feel like if there is a time for me to loosen up, this isn't it. The Selection is the most important thing I'll do before I'm king. And with everything that's going on in Europe right now… it's more important than ever for me to have it together."

His sister's smile was sad. "Well, at least your consistency makes you predictable," she allowed as she stood. She grabbed both of Nolan's hands and tugged him to his feet. "Come on. Alex and I have a surprise for you."

"A surprise?" laughed Nolan. He was a little wary of any surprise that Alex and Lea had collaborated on—they weren't exactly known for their subtlety or reasonableness—but it was a nice gesture that he appreciated. Although Alex and Lea had been dating for six years, almost the entirety of their acquaintance, Nolan never felt like he was the third wheel with them. They were one of those rare couples that made anyone around them feel wanted and included regardless of the situation.

Although Lea made him close his eyes to maintain the surprise aspect, Nolan guessed where they were going when she started to lead him up the second flight of stairs. Their aunt Celine had showed them how to get onto the roof when they were still children, and the twins had quickly decided it would be their _spot_. Aside from the peace it afforded and the incredible view of the palace grounds, Nolan had always been particularly fond of stargazing, something his parents had introduced him to as a child, and the roof was the prime location for such activities.

He was excited when he saw that his telescope had already been set up by Lea and Alex. The air was still warm as Angeles tried to hang on to the late summer weather a little while longer, and the skies were incredibly clear. Lea and Alex had managed to lug a couple of bean bag chairs onto the roof for them, and two pizzas from their favorite takeout place awaited them.

It was the first time that Nolan had seen his friend since he'd returned from Sahara, and he hugged Alex in greeting. "I leave you alone for a few days, and you get yourself into a Selection?" joked Alex, clapping Nolan on the back. "Good god, man."

Nolan smiled wryly. Alex had been one of his closest friends since he was thirteen years old, and over the years, the messy haired nutcase had somehow been a calming presence for the prince. Where Nolan could be uptight and serious, Alex always had a joke in his back pocket and an innate ability to make people feel comfortable. Nolan thought it was one of the things that made Alex such a great doctor.

"Hey, maybe soon we'll be able to go on these double dates that you and Lea are always nagging me about," shrugged Nolan.

"Oh, believe me, I'm ready," Lea grinned as she dropped into a bean bag chair and grabbed a slice of pizza. It was still so hot and greasy that the cheese and toppings started to slip off, which Lea promptly caught in her mouth. Her speech was muffled with food as she continued, "I've been planning them for years just in case you or Kingsley finally got a girlfriend." A slice of pepperoni dropped onto her jeans, and she promptly scooped it into her mouth. Lea was always at her most relaxed, least princess-like around Alex and Nolan.

"You're disgusting," Alex remarked affectionately.

Nolan turned his attention to his telescope. "Well, your wish is finally my command, I guess," he muttered as he began fiddling with the settings. He did a quick sweep of the sky, his stomach doing an excited wiggle when he realized that he could see Venus.

"Luckily," quipped Lea, "If I had to wait for Kingsley, I'd have gray hair before I got to show my date planning prowess." Kingsley was the adopted son of their father's brother, Tristan, and was perhaps the only person that Nolan had ever met that was more serious than himself. A captain in the royal air force at only twenty-three, dating was fairly low—if not nonexistent—on Kingsley's list of priorities.

"So, what is Nolan's perfect Daughter of Illéa like?" queried Alex as he leaned back in his bean bag chair, a slice of pizza in his hand and his feet propped up on Lea's knees.

Nolan snorted. "You think I know?"

Lea looked on the verge of laughter. "Yeah, come on Alex, you know Nolan hasn't even had his first kiss yet. The last time a girl tried, he almost had her arrested," she giggled teasingly.

"I was ten years old!" Nolan countered frantically as he pulled away from his telescope. Alex began to laugh so hard that he choked on his pizza.

"Who was it?" Alex demanded. "Please tell me I know her."

"Don't you dare," Nolan threatened Lea when he saw the mischievous glint in her eye.

"You can't leave me hanging!" countered Alex, "I'm your best friend! I told you about the time that Lea got food poisoning at my parents' house!"

"You _what?_ "

Nolan chuckled to himself before he turned his gaze back to the telescope lens. Even though he was still nervous about the Selection and really didn't have any clue what he was looking for, he was glad that Lea and Alex would be around to help him figure it out. His sister and her boyfriend were the real deal. They'd made it through Alex's time in medical school four hours away, in which he'd driven home every weekend and Lea had dutifully helped him study for exams, and somehow, Alex had never been deterred by the unerring intimidation that Oliver exerted on him. They were the sort of people that made each other better.

At the very least, Nolan knew that he wanted something like that.

* * *

129 Days Before

Oliver jumped awake when he felt a hand settle on his back. For a moment, he felt disoriented, unsure of where he was and who had woken him. As his bleary eyes cleared, his wife's disapproving face came into view. "You fell asleep again," Mae frowned.

The king groaned as he rubbed his tired face. "What time is it?" he asked.

"Eight in the morning," his wife explained. "Did you sleep in here all night?"

He leaned back in his chair, his body stiff and sore from the couple hours that he'd spent slumped over his desk. "I wish," sighed the tired king. "Tristan and I had a three-hour conference with Mosi, Raphael, and Tae at midnight, and then I stayed to catch up on some work."

Mae's eyebrows furrowed. "Did it have to be so late?" she frowned. "This is the third night that you've barely slept this week."

"It was already mid-morning in Rome and Cairo and late afternoon in East New Asia," Oliver pointed out. His eyes were burning with exhaustion, and he let them flutter shut for a moment.

Before he knew it, Mae was shaking him awake again. "Up," she ordered. "You're going to bed. You can't take care of Illéa if you're not taking care of yourself."

He tried to shake her off, but his wife had always been surprisingly strong. "I'm fine," he countered, "Really, Mae, I have so much work—"

"Tristan and I will handle it," she dismissed the argument. "He probably actually got some real rest last night, unlike you."

He would've argued more, but he almost fell over when she left his side to grab a pair of pajamas for him, so Oliver decided that she was probably right and dropped onto the bed instead. The mattress felt a million times softer and more welcoming than ever before, and she had to rouse him from sleep once more to get him to change out of the clothes he'd been wearing since the previous morning.

"No more sleeping in the study," she ordered as she helped him tug his sweater off. "Driving yourself to the brink of exhaustion isn't going to stop the world from falling apart."

The flannel pajama pants and t-shirt were the most comfortable things he'd ever worn, he decided. "Things are bad, Mae," he admitted as he slid beneath the fluffy, down feather duvet. He failed to repress a yawn before he explained, "West New Asia seems to be the newest problem. Nikolai's heir, Gregor, met with Queen Ryo there last week. Tae tried to see if she'd be willing to meet with him to figure out what's going on with them and Russia, and she hasn't even returned his calls. I knew she was still upset by the separation of New Asia, but if she won't even see the king of East New Asia, I doubt there's a lot that we can do."

He didn't want to scare her too much, but he couldn't stop now that he'd started. "And Raphael is a mess," he continued in reference to his childhood friend, the playboy prince of Italy, "Queen Natalia has been sick for months, but this would be the worst time for Raph to become king."

If he'd been less exhausted, he might have noticed the worried frown that flashed across her face. But when she turned towards him, there was only a smile. "We'll get through it," she insisted, "Together." She gave him a quick kiss. "Now get some sleep."

Her voice brought him back from the edge of sleep one last time as she paused at the door of their bedroom. "One last thing," she began suspiciously, "I noticed there were some Selection entry files on your desk. You wouldn't happen to be cheating by looking at them, would you?"

As tired as he was, Oliver still managed to look embarrassed at being caught. "Not _cheating_ ," he countered, "I'm not going to make sure they're picked or anything. I just wanted to, you know, check it out. See what the response to Nolan has been like so far."

"And?" Mae asked. He wanted to laugh. She'd scold him if she thought that he was doing anything dubious, but deep down, she was just as curious as he was about the upcoming process.

A smile tugged at the king's exhausted features. "So far, so good," he assured her. "I think Nolan is going to have a really promising bunch."

The queen's face relaxed. "Good," she nodded, "Now get some sleep. I swear if I come back and you're in the study, there's going to be hell to pay."

"I don't doubt it at all," snorted Oliver, finally letting his burning eyes close and the blackness of sleep take him.


	4. 123 Days Before

**Author's Note:** First chapter featuring some Selected! I hope you guys like the new characters introduced this chapter, they are amazing. For those of you who read _Holding_ , this should be especially exciting. Thanks to everyone on Pinterest who enabled my impatience and supported my early update. I did announce one more character than I originally intended, but there are still 12 spots available. As a reminder, the deadline to submit a character is this upcoming Monday, the 27th. I have already received a lot of characters, so I will not be allowing any type of extensions. Also, if you have submitted part of a character's form, this does not preclude you from the deadline. I will need the complete form by the 27th.

* * *

Chapter Three: 123 Days Before

While the palace should have been quiet around midnight, that was not the case presently. Though the group of six was supposed to be on a covert operation, only two of the party made any effort to avoid drawing any attention to themselves.

"This is an awful idea," Nolan decided, his tone hushed.

"Nollie, stop being such a spoil sport," Lea called—loudly—from her current position astride their cousin, Bayer's, back.

Beside him, Alex crossed his arms, the only other person who was evidently as nervous about the stupid field trip as Nolan was. "I don't know, Lee," he admitted, "As public enemy number one to your dad—"

"Technically, not true." Their uncle Tristan and aunt Isolde's adopted son, Kingsley, was all about technicalities. "Marid Illéa has been public enemy number one for the past twenty-three years."

"Well, thank you for that, Kingsley," Alex quipped, "Good to know that I fall only slightly before a psychotic, murderous douche canoe—"

Lea hopped off Bayer's back as they paused outside the library. "You guys are a bunch of babies," she declared as she pulled a key from the pocket of her jeans. "What's the worst that could happen?"

Alex had been prepared for this question. "Imprisonment, exile, banishment from the palace, public condemnation so no one ever hires me—"

"Six years, Alex," Lea declared, loudly cutting him off and barely containing her amusement, "When are you going to stop being afraid of my dad?"

Alex pretended to consider it. "When he stops being king, probably."

On his other side, Nolan's best friend, Orlando Phineas, yawned and pulled his curly hair into a bun. "Can we do whatever we're doing?" he inquired. "I need my beauty sleep."

"No argument there," Bayer smirked. Orlando gave him an impolite hand gesture.

Without another word, Lea turned to the door and inserted the key. The library door swung open to reveal a sea of baskets, each laden with stacks of manila folders. Lea gave an enthusiastic little clap, as she often did whenever she got overly excited. "Let's go meet your future wife!"

Everyone else wasted little time, but Nolan lingered in the doorway. Every file represented a real person with their own thoughts, background, experiences, and opinions. He'd pulled thirty-five folders from the baskets earlier on camera, but they weren't going to be read until _The Report_ the following day. The Selected now waited in a silver basket that Lea was currently rifling through.

They'd been lounging in her room trying to talk Nolan down from the stress of the actual picking earlier when his sister had gotten the "brilliant" idea of taking a sneak peek at the files so he wouldn't feel as overwhelmed when he read their names live on Friday. Now, each of his friends had a file in their hands as he stood frozen with fear.

"Oh, this girl sounds so nice!" Lea exclaimed. "Listen: 'Miss Antonia Michaelson from Angeles, twenty-one, a baker—'"

The name of their province jerked Nolan back to life. He crossed to the Angeles baskets and began rifling through them haphazardly, a manner very different from his usual attitude that gave the other five pause. He could feel his heartbeat quickening as he desperately searched for the name.

After what seemed like an eternity, he pulled the file from the basket and crossed to his sister, ripping Antonia Michaelson's folder from her hands. He felt a little bad that Antonia would never make it to the palace, but he needed the support that only the new file that he had handed over to Lea could provide.

Lea's eyes widened as she read the name. "Calliope Gauge?!" The other four, all very familiar with Calliope Gauge, all paused and looked at Nolan with shocked faces. "I didn't know you like Calli!" Lea exclaimed excitedly, "I didn't know Calli liked _you_!"

Calliope Gauge, the daughter of Oliver's highest ranking general, Cooper Gauge, had practically grown up with the group. She was two years older than Nolan and had spent the last four years away at college where she studied to be an engineer, but she and Nolan had always been close, and she tended to be a little protective of him.

When he'd told her about the Selection, she'd offered to enter to keep an eye out for him. There was a job offer that she wanted to accept in Angeles anyway, but her father had been pushing her to take a different one that she'd received from a company in Sonage. "This way," Calli had grinned, "I have more reason to take the job in Angeles." She'd said nothing about making sure she got in, but when saw the files and realized it was in his power to ensure she did, he couldn't help himself.

"I don't," Nolan assured his sister, "and neither does Calli."

They all looked confused. "So, what's the…" Kingsley trailed off as he thought about it, a smile slowly forming on his face. "Calli wants the job at Pacifica, doesn't she?"

Pacifica was the largest military base in Illéa, one that had been established by Nolan's father before he had even become king. It had the most high-tech facilities, the best soldiers, engineers, officers, technology, weapons, everything. It was natural that Calli, who had recently received her degree in mechanical engineering from one of the most prestigious universities in the country, would want to work there. But it was also logical that her father, who knew that those at Pacifica were always deployed to conflict situations first as they were the best, would also try to talk her out of it.

Nolan nodded. "So, it works for both of us," he concluded, "I get a friend, and I promised Calli I'd get her special permission from Dad to go to Pacifica for work twice a week."

Kingsley snorted. "Well, the general is going to be overjoyed." He grimaced a moment later. Since Kingsley was a captain in the air force, Gauge was technically his boss. "PT is going to fun this week."

"Look at you," grinned Orlando while Nolan redeposited Antonia Michaelson's file to the proper basket, "The guy who didn't even want to come on this illicit operation is rigging the system!"

Nolan's face flushed. "Just Calli," he insisted, "I need her." He picked up a random file, ready to move on from the conversation. "Oh, look, this girl's name is Guinevere," he declared, "It says here she's from the French quarter in Midston."

Bayer's face lit up as he snatched the file. "I _love_ New Orleans." Nolan raised an inquisitive eyebrow at his cousin. "What?" the French prince shrugged, "I like the culture."

Orlando rolled his eyes. "You like the alcohol and the fact that girls get beads for taking their shirts off," he countered.

"You should come with me next time," Bayer rejoined, "The boys don't wear their shirts either." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at Orlando.

"Unfortunately," Orlando sighed disinterestedly as he began to flip through a new file, "I'm not drawn to floozies like you are."

"Look at this," Alex nearly yelled, very used to the sarcastic banter between Bayer and Orlando and therefore aware of how long it could go on, "Don't you read _A La Mode,_ Lee?"

"On occasion," confirmed Lea, "Why? Does someone work there?"

Alex nodded. "Margo. Editor-in-chief, it looks like."

Lea beamed. "Well, I'll have to thank her for putting me on their 'Best Dressed' list three years in a row." Nolan rolled his eyes at his sister and reached for another file.

They had made it through a good number of the files, although there were still a few left, when Nolan heard a noise approaching the library.

"I'm sure it was just the dog, Mae," he heard his father say loudly, as though he was projecting his voice so that they could hear him down the hall in the library, "I know it can't be my children sneaking around, since they love and respect me so much."

Nolan froze and dropped his file. "It's Mom and Dad!"

They sprang into action, throwing the files indiscriminately back into the silver basket. "I told you we would get caught!" Alex whisper-yelled at Lea, "I hope you're ready to learn how to date, honey, because your dad is gonna kill me!"

Lea shushed him and grabbed his sleeve to yank him behind a nearby bookshelf. Kinglsey, Bayer, Orlando, and Nolan followed suit, though Nolan did make sure to join Alex in glaring at Lea as they waited.

Their parents strolled into the room a moment later. "See, Mae," Oliver noted, sounding unconvinced, "I told you we have such obedient children who wouldn't dare meddle with state business like the Selection."

"Uh huh," Mae agreed dubiously, "I suppose a guard just left the door unlocked on accident." She straightened the files in the silver basket.

"And I'm sure if anyone is out and about, they'll promptly make their way back to bed," continued Oliver pointedly as he led his wife back towards the door. He put a hand on each of the double doors and started to slowly close them. Nolan exhaled, and across the aisle, he saw Alex slowly relax.

They were just about to abandon their hiding spots when Oliver reappeared briefly. "Goodnight, Alexander," the king smirked. Nolan watched as Alex's eyes bulged. The other five barely repressed their laughter until they heard the door shut. One of Oliver's favorite past-times was harassing his daughter's boyfriend at every opportunity.

"I told you!" Alex declared as they made their way from the library. "There'll probably be deportation papers at my door first thing in the morning."

Lea rolled her eyes and put her arm through Alex's. "Would you calm down? He can't deport you. You're from Likely, you freak."

"Oh, he'll find a way," countered Alex.

"Take me with you if he does," frowned Nolan as a heavy weight settled in the pit of his stomach. He'd hoped that his sister's plan would actually help him feel more relaxed about _The Report_ that awaited him the following evening, but all it had done was make the impending process feel more real. The more he saw about the girls in their files, the more intimidated he felt.

Bayer hit him on the back. "Don't worry, Nollie bear," he chirped, using the childhood nickname the prince has been given by his mother and had never been able to live down, "We'll all be here for you." It was a rare moment of sentimentality from Bayer, one that Nolan appreciated immensely.

The others nodded in agreement. "As much as I hate to agree the Witless Wonder," allowed Orlando, "he's right this time."

"That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me," Bayer declared.

Lea rolled her eyes and pulled her brother into a bearhug. "We love you, Nollie!" she summarized for the group. "And we'll help you find someone perfect. We want to love her too." The group nodded their agreement. They were very close-knit, having known each other for most of their lives. Alex, whom they'd know for nearly seven years already, was the newest addition.

Nolan laughed as he hugged her back, grateful for his friends. They always made him feel calmer, even when they did ridiculous things like force him to snoop through the Selected's files. With them, he felt like life wasn't so impossible.

* * *

122 Days Before

Usually, the dance studio was one of her favorite places. But today, instead of the picture of elegance as she twirled and executed perfect footwork, the dark-haired girl embodied impatience, her eyes distracted and her movements less crisp.

But it wasn't just the petite ballerina who seemed impatient for the day's rehearsal to end. In fact, there wasn't a single female dancer in the studio who seemed able to pay attention, something that the instructor at the front of the room begrudgingly realized. "Alright," she sighed, "Since no one seems capable of remembering what steps we've been working on all week, we'll end early today. I'll see you all on Monday." There was a pause and a slight smile, as if the older woman was remembering an event from her past that had once made her behave in a similar manner. "Good luck," she added with a rueful smile.

The room burst into activity as the girls abandoned their dance postures and began throwing their belongings into their bags. "Are you going over to Abbey's to watch, Raina?" a girl with strawberry blonde hair asked the brunette.

Raina faltered for a moment, unaware yet unsurprised that the other girls in the company were planning on watching together. "No," she admitted as she pulled a neatly folded sweater from her bag, "Just going to stay home. Good luck, though." The smile that punctuated her statement was sweet and genuine, despite her exclusion from the aforementioned plans.

The other girl smiled. "You too! How crazy would that be if you got it?" she chuckled.

A familiar nervousness—one that she'd been dealing with since she'd turned the form in—fluttered in Raina's stomach. "Crazy," she agreed. She heaved her bag over her shoulder and said a quick goodbye before she hurried out of the studio into the cool autumn air.

The end of summer had brought a briskness to Likely that Raina had always loved. A light breeze rustled the treetops—she wondered if they'd started to turn from their usual green yet as she inspected them, but as always, her eyes could perceive no indication of their shade—but it wasn't yet so cold that she was uncomfortable on her short walk home. As she made her way towards the outskirts of town, she fished a cell phone from the front pocket of her bag.

Her call was answered after a single ring. "Fifi!" she beamed, already imagining the cringe that usually accompanied the nickname.

"Dragă floricică." She rolled her eyes at the Romanian phrase that was usually his response to "Fifi." She wasn't sure what it meant but had always figured that it was likely something mean since he'd never been too fond of "Fifi." Her older brother, Ryder, had bequeathed the nickname jokingly upon his best friend, Finn Cojocaru, years ago when they were kids. At some time that she couldn't pinpoint, Raina had adopted it too.

"Are you still at work?" she asked. "We got out of dance class early, so I thought that I could meet you at the fire station, and we could walk home together."

There was a brief scuffle on the other end of the phone before Finn replied, "Uh, I actually got off work early today."

Raina's eyebrows knit together. "That sounds… safe," she replied, thinking it seemed a little questionable for a fireman to be allowed to leave before his shift ended. "Well, are you still coming over later?"

"Of course," he assured her. It sounded like he was struggling with something, and Raina wondered if she'd caught him in the middle of a work out.

She hesitated before she added, "And you talked to Ryder about keeping things low-key, right? I really don't want this to be a whole event. I'm still not sure how happy my dad is about it."

"Would you relax?" Finn laughed. "For the millionth time, your dad is _fine_."

"And Ryder is going to be low-key?" she added hopefully.

Finn laughed nervously. "Well… low-key for Ryder," he promised.

As if he could sense people talking about him, Raina's older brother's voice appeared on the other end of the line. "Hey, Count Dracula," barked Ryder, "Get back to work. These balloons aren't gonna hang themselves."

"Balloons?" squeaked Raina. That was not low-key.

"Sorry, dragă," responded Finn, "The foreman's calling."

The nervous stomach butterflies almost doubled in size when she hung up the phone. While Raina tended to be more quiet and reserved, similar to her father, her brother was a different creature entirely.

The cottage-style house looked innocuous enough from the outside, and Raina exhaled. The last time Ryder had seen cause for celebration—when Raina had been cast as the lead in _Swan Lake_ —she'd been able to see the decorations from down the road, so they were off to a good start.

She stepped into the foyer and dropped her dance bag and shoes in their usual spot. "Daddy?" she called as she slipped off her sweater. "Ry, Fifi? I'm home—"

"Surprise!"

Raina jumped at the chorus of voices that accosted her from the living room. Her eyes widened as she took in the set-up: balloons and streamers hung from the walls and ceiling, the island in the kitchen was laden with food, her brother was holding a giant cake _with her face on it_ in one hand and trumpeting on a party horn with the other, and the living room was crowded with people—people who, unlike Raina, did not look like they'd just spent all morning dancing ballet. As she gaped at everything, her brother elbowed Finn pointedly, who promptly threw a handful of Disney princess confetti into the air.

She was still in a state of shock as the tiny princesses fluttered to the ground around her. Ryder recaptured everyone's attention, directing them to the food, as Raina's family approached her. "I tried," her father offered.

"We all tried," agreed Finn with a rueful smile.

"Well, you know your brother," Raina's grandmother, Granny Thea, reasoned. "He's a—"

"Wonderful grandson? The light of your lives?" interjected Ryder. He'd lost the face cake somewhere, but he looked pleased with himself as he dropped an arm around his father and sister. "Surprised?" he asked his younger sister with a grin.

"Yes," admitted Raina, "especially since I told you that I just wanted to do something small, _maybe_ order a pizza if I was feeling crazy." She scanned the crowd. She saw a few neighbors present, a couple of the girls from the theater company (who were probably only there because they thought her brother was hot), some teachers that Ryder worked with, and even several ladies from Granny Thea's bridge club. All in all, it was not quite small.

"Come on, Ray-Ray," teased Ryder, "We have to celebrate. You're meeting the love of your life soon!"

The other four rolled their eyes. "You don't know he'll be the love of her life," countered their father.

"Calm down, Papa Smurf," Ryder snickered, "I wasn't talking about Prince NoNo. I meant His Majesty, king of Raina's heart."

Raina's cheeks turned crimson at the mention of her childhood crush on King Oliver. "I was a teenager!" she protested.

Granny Thea rolled her eyes. "Ryder, stop harassing your sister. Make yourself useful and get your grandmother a nice, strong scotch." Ryder saluted his grandmother and disappeared into the crowd, the white-haired woman on his heels, likely to ensure that the drink was to her liking.

"If you want me to send everyone home, I will," her father assured her with a squeeze of her shoulder.

"Don't worry about it," Raina countered with a smile. "Might as well try to enjoy, I guess? I think I saw Ryder's famous coca cola ribs. Wanna split some?"

"On it," her dad nodded determinedly. He made his way throughout the crowd towards the food, leaving Raina alone with Finn.

"I really am sorry," Finn remarked with a chuckle.

"It's fine," she decided, "Hurricane Ryder strikes again."

"Always." He chewed his lip, like there was something else on his mind. Raina frowned. She'd known Finn since she was five, so it was rare that he tried to hold things back from her.

"What's going on?" she prompted.

Finn shrugged. "I mean… it just seems a little weird. Thirty-five girls trying to win the prince's heart? Really? They definitely don't do that in Romania," he noted in reference to his native country. "Guess I just don't get what's so special about him."

Before Raina had a chance to explain her reasoning for entering, Ryder reappeared, a plate piled high with food in his hands. "Well, at least he doesn't look like the offspring of Dracula and Snow White like you," he declared.

The strange mood disappeared as they both laughed. One of Ryder's favorite things to make fun of Finn for was his Romanian roots. Before Ryder could tease either of them further though, the opening strains of _The Report_ blared from the television. Ryder almost dropped his plate in excitement. "Coming through!" he declared as he dragged Raina and Finn through the crowd. The three of them took a seat on the couch with their father.

A silence fell over the room as the host of the show, Coen, greeted the nation. He was a little older than the king, in his late forties now, but his face still looked as youthful as it had in pictures that Raina had seen from the king's Selection. Without much ado, Coen beckoned Prince Nolan from the seat that he'd occupied next to his parents and sister. The king and queen both looked the picture of elegance and calm, while Princess Leanna was clearly excited.

Raina glanced at her father, who had expressed reservations about her decision to enter the Selection in the first place. Ultimately, he'd supported her, as he always did whenever Raina put her mind to something, but as she watched the way his eyes took in the royal family, it sparked her curiosity. She knew there was a history there, but her father had never told her much about his youth. She figured it was a painful subject, but it didn't mean that she didn't have questions.

On stage, the prince picked up the first envelope. He announced that Margo Katsaros from Kent would be joining them, and a picture of the girl flashed on the screen. She looked friendly with wavy dark hair (brown, Raina suspected, although she supposed it could've been auburn and her colorblind eyes never would've known), dark eyes, and tanned skin. Raina wondered if, by some miracle, she made it to Angeles too, whether someone like Margo could be her friend. The possibility, something she hadn't hoped for in a long time, made her heart skip a beat.

Margo's picture disappeared, and Prince Nolan moved to the next envelope. Raina noticed that his face seemed to visibly relax before he declared that Calliope Gauge would be the Selected from Angeles.

Their living room burst into a low buzz of conversation. "That's the General's daughter," Finn noted beside her. General Gauge was well-known, the only five star general in the country, and one of the king's council members.

"They've probably grown up together," Raina remarked.

Finn nodded in agreement. "Maybe the king and the general were looking for a way to merge families."

Raina wanted to tell him that she didn't think the king would hold a whole Selection as a ruse to trick the country while he orchestrated a marriage between his son and the general's daughter, but she didn't get the chance, because the prince had moved on once more. "From Midston," he continued in the same even voice, "Guinevere Montesquieu." He pronounced Guinevere's name seamlessly, and it made Raina wonder if he had scanned the names of the girls before the show.

Her thought disappeared as soon as he moved on to the next girl though. Something about the form caused the prince pause, and he glanced over his shoulder at his father, who gave him the slightest nod of reassurance. Prince Nolan cleared his throat and inspected the form before him a little more than those previously. "From Likely..."

The living room held its breath.

"Lady Raina Illéa."

Everyone else seemed to process the news much more quickly than she did. In a short moment, Ryder was yelling and hugging her, the girls from ballet were squealing excitedly, and Granny Thea was yelling, "That's my granddaughter!" Only when her brother freed her, and she turned to Alaric, her father, did it fully sink in.

She'd been Selected. Despite her last name, whatever lingered between Alaric and King Oliver, the stigma of being Marid Illéa's granddaughter and related to the troublesome tsarina of Russia, she was going to Angeles to be part of Nolan's Selection.

The earlier nervousness disappeared, but in its place, a new fear developed. She'd entered the Selection on a bit of a whim. She wasn't in love with Nolan already like some of the girls she'd spoken to claimed to be, but she was looking for something. She wasn't sure exactly what it was, but as she watched the handsome prince on stage continue through the list of girls that would be joining her on the adventure, she prayed that, whatever it was, she found it.

The party lasted a while longer, as people clamored to congratulate Raina. She accepted their praise happily. Being an Illéa, she'd never received the warmest welcomes from people. It hurt, but over the years, she'd grown accustomed to it. But now that she was on her way to Angeles, everyone was excited that they knew her, and for once, it felt good to be liked.

When everyone had left and Alaric, clearly exhausted by the evening, had said goodnight, Raina lingered downstairs with Finn and Ryder to clean up before the guys returned to the loft that they shared. She was quiet as they worked, something that Ryder picked up on as they stood at the sink together doing dishes. "You okay?" he asked, nudging her with his hip.

She tried to shrug it off, but her brother was never convinced by her shows of bravery. So, avoiding both his and Finn's faces, she wondered, "Well… what if Nolan doesn't like me because of the… you know, the Illéa thing?"

Ryder, always Raina's most ardent protector, glared. "Then he's an idiot," he declared vehemently, "and I'll kick his ass."

"Language!" Raina gasped, although she did giggle. "I'll let my dollar slide for now," she teased him about the family 'swear jar', since she did appreciate her brother's promise, "But just so you know, I'm pretty sure they call that treason anywhere else."

"Well, good thing I'll have hook ups once this Selection thing starts," Ryder rejoined. He paused. "I guess I didn't really think about it when you signed up, but he's bound to love you. My little sister—going off, falling in love…" He met eyes with Finn over Raina's head. "Fifi, we might have to kick his ass anyway."

They chuckled, but Raina's died in her throat as she thought of something that made her stomach sink. "I guess we're all off to Angeles now," she noted as she glanced from Ryder to Finn. At least both had the decency to look sheepish.

While the King had assured the country that they were, for the moment, not going to get engaged with foreign affairs as the war in Europe unfolded, it hadn't stopped Lord High Admiral, General Gauge, from announcing that they were increasing military recruitment throughout the country. He called it preventative, but when Raina's brother and friend had announced that they were signing up, Raina had been devastated.

Finn insisted he had to in case Illéa did get involved with the growing war, considering the way Russia had been bullying his native country, Romania, and Ryder maintained that Finn wasn't going anywhere without him. They both had done incredible on all their initial tests and assessments and resultantly, were being sent to Pacifica in Angeles. But Raina, a staunch pacifist who disagreed with war in any situation, couldn't understand their reasoning. All she knew was that she was terrified for them.

Ryder pulled her in to a crushing embrace. Hugs had always been his specialty. "We're gonna be okay, Rainy," he promised her, "All of us. Get in here, Vlad!"

Although he pretended to be exasperated, Finn complied, since he knew Ryder would physically force him anyway. As she stood in the small kitchen with two of her favorite people squeezing her in a group hug, she felt her worry start to fade away. Raina Illéa had always been a little blindly hopeful—something she would eventually come to regret.


	5. 121 Days Before

**Auhtor's Note:** To paraphrase a cinematic classic, this chapter made me realize that this story is like an onion. It has a lot of layers. Hope it sheds some light on some relationships. Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter, I appreciate you guys so much. _Final reminder: SYOC closes this Monday, the 27th._

* * *

Chapter Four: 121 Days Before

As their car slowed outside the palace, the two women leaned closer to the window to inspect it. "You ready?" the younger of the two asked. There was an elegant air to her face, and her voiced carried a thick French accent.

The other nodded. "Are you ready is the better question," she pointed out.

"I'm ready to see my family," allowed Princess Everly Schreave of France, "I miss Bayer when I'm in France. But my ex-husband and whatever twenty-year-old actress or model that he's dating this week…" She rolled her eyes. "Well, I suppose Elijah will always be Elijah."

Her companion put a comforting hand on the princess's arm. "Just remember how upset he was when that magazine called him a sugar daddy," she suggested.

It was a good recommendation, and the princess laughed. "'I'm not old enough to be a sugar daddy,'" she quoted her ex-husband and the king's Lord Chamberlain in a rough improvisation of his voice. She rolled her eyes. "At least he's good for a laugh. Come on."

The two emerged from the car, arms looped together to offer each other strength. Over the years, they had spent a good deal of time together in France, becoming quite close. Now, with the war nearing the French border, they'd both elected to take a precautionary vacation to the Illéan palace at Oliver's invitation.

The butlers at the front door of the palace bowed deeply. "Welcome back, Your Highness," they greeted Everly before they turned to her friend, "Lady Davis."

"Dr. Davis is fine," Kaitlyn countered airily. In all the time since Oliver's Selection had ended, she still hadn't adjusted to being "Lady Davis."

"Of course," the butler bowed again. "Shall I inform Her Majesty of your arrival?"

Kaitlyn waved him off. "Knowing Mae, I'm sure she already—"

But she didn't get to finish her assumption, because she was knocked off-balance as another body collided with hers. Whether it was becoming of a queen or not, Mae squeezed her friend enthusiastically. "I'm so happy to see you!" she exclaimed, "It's been _too_ long."

Kaitlyn laughed. "I was here for Christmas," she pointed out.

" _Far_ too long," reiterated Mae. She held Kaitlyn at an arm's length to inspect her. "Your hair's gotten longer," she noted, "I love it." She turned to greet Everly, her cousin by marriage, but before Kaitlyn could catch her breath, another pair of arms trapped her.

"Mae and I have decided we're going to pass legislature banning you from going back to France," Isolde Woodwork-Schreave, Tristan's wife and another member of Oliver's Selection twenty-three years ago, declared. During the Selection, Isolde, Mae, Presley, Kaitlyn and Lord Marshall Xander Seymour's younger sister, Margaery, had been good friends. Most of the friendships had persisted over time, and each time she saw Isolde and Mae, it was like no more than a day had passed.

"I suppose I would manage," Kaitlyn smiled, although she had built most of her life in France rather than Illéa after the Selection's end. It had been hard to return to her everyday life in Bonita after she'd come in second and started to imagine a life in Angeles even if she hadn't quite been in love with Oliver anymore by the end of the process. So, when she was offered an internship with the French palace physician, she'd packed up her cat, a few belongings, and been on the first plane out.

Returning to Illéa was difficult, something that she tended to reserve for things like birthdays and holidays. It wasn't that she resented that Mae had become queen instead of her. Anyone who knew Kaitlyn also knew that she was elated for her friends. No, it wasn't the loss of Oliver that had stung so ardently that Kaitlyn still felt it to that day.

Though she never married and never had any children of her own, Kaitlyn Davis had been in love once upon a time. It had been a time when she wasn't supposed to be in love with anyone but the prince and with a person that she had met completely by chance. Returning to Angeles, to the palace, the place where it had all started… well, it always rattled the drawer that she'd tried to tightly tuck the feelings and memories away in.

She tugged at the compass necklace that hung at her neck, a nervous habit she'd developed since she received the gift years ago. She willed herself to think of anything else and turned to Isolde. "Where's my godson?" she asked excitedly.

Isolde gave an affectionate roll of her eyes at the mention of her son. "You know Kingsley," she sighed, "Always at Pacifica. Honestly, you would think that we lived across the country instead of thirty minutes away."

"Well, I hope I get to see him while I'm home," Kaitlyn noted with a frown.

"Oh, I'm sure you will," Isolde smirked with a knowing glance in Mae's direction.

"Uh oh," remarked Kaitlyn as she watched the interaction between her friends. Before Mae could say anything else, Isolde decided she would show Everly to her room, leaving only the queen and her longtime friend alone in the hallway.

"Are you hungry?" Mae asked brightly as she took her friend's arm and led her towards the royal family's floor. "I can have some lunch sent up to the office."

Kaitlyn agreed, and she'd made her way through half a sandwich as they sat in the king's study before Mae admitted, "I want you to stay on as the palace physician for… a while."

It was only Isolde's foreshadowing that her stay would be a long one that prevented Kaitlyn from being so surprised that she choked on her sandwich. She forced the dry lump down before she asked, "But what about Dr. Groff?"

"Retiring," explained Mae, "and we thought that it would be a good idea to have someone new start before the Selection, so they're familiar with the girls' medical histories and everything."

Kaitlyn paused. "By 'a while', you mean…"

"Sort of… permanently?" Mae confirmed with a cheesy smile.

She set the rest of her sandwich down, since her appetite had run screaming at Mae's mention of a permanent position. Kaitlyn had had a lot of great experiences in her life. She'd traveled, researched, taken risks. But the most permanent fixture in her daily life had only ever been her cats. "Uh…"

"I know it's a lot to ask," Mae allowed. "But what if you just try it out during the Selection? If you don't like it, we do have other avenues to explore. But Nolan's comfortable with you, so we didn't want to bring in a completely new face when Groff submitted his retirement notice."

"Guilt tripped with Nolan," Kaitlyn sighed. "Unfair, Mae."

Mae's face softened. "If you really don't want to do it, I understand," she admitted, "but I just thought with France as… well, imminently involved with the war, you might want something to do while you're here in Illéa."

It was a kind gesture given that Kaitlyn was technically stuck. She'd discussed joining the French forces as a physician, but there was a complication regarding the fact that she was an Illéan citizen. "I can help out during the Selection," Kaitlyn decided carefully, "but as to long term… can I get back to you?"

"Of course," Mae assured her. She reached for a stack of papers on the end table beside them and handed them over. "Want to help me get started on the Selected's medical histories? It's just a bunch of phone calls, really. And it'll give you a chance to check them out. You probably didn't get to watch _The Report_ on the plane."

Kaitlyn agreed, and the two got to work. They had an efficient system: Mae read off a phone number to Kaitlyn, then Kaitlyn asked medically pertinent questions to the Selected over speakerphone while Mae scribbled down answers and Kaitlyn made an occasional note. While not the most exciting work, they moved through their list effectively until the door to the study opened. Oliver paused in the doorway when he noticed they were busy at work. "Oh, hey, Kaitlyn. I didn't realize you'd arrived," he explained. He glanced at the mountains of paper surrounding them. "Uh… should I leave?"

Mae waved him off. "Of course not," she countered, "I thought you had a meeting with the generals."

"Rescheduled," explained Oliver, "Xander delivered their new warship, so they're like kids in a candy shop." He settled behind his desk and shot a nervous glance at his wife and Kaitlyn. "But, as a question of interest, what are you two up to?"

"Just some pre-Selection work," Mae answered as she flipped through some pages on her clipboard. "We're doing health history and screenings today, just so we're prepared."

"So, basically, a lot of phone calls," interjected Kaitlyn. "Are you sure you don't want us to go somewhere else? I think Mae _does_ have her own office." She shot a teasing smile at her friend.

Mae shrugged. "I like this one better. But we can leave if you need us to, Ol."

"No, stay," countered Oliver, "I insist. I'm just going to be reviewing some census information and trying not to die of boredom."

The three of them returned to their respective duties, and Kaitlyn and Mae made it through around half of the list in a rather monotonous fashion. When Mae recited a number and informed her it was for Lady Raina as the phone rang, Kaitlyn had no reason to suspect the call would be any different, since she hadn't seen Nolan's live announcement of the Selected. Mae realized too late what was happening, and before she could do anything, the other line picked up.

"Hello?"

She froze. It had been twenty-three years, but she would have known that voice anywhere. Her panicked gaze turned to Mae, who mouthed, "I'm so sorry." Waves of discomfort were radiating from Oliver, who hunched even lower over his census report at his desk.

"Hello?" the voice repeated, this time with a note of confusion.

"Alaric." A million emotions barraged her, leaving her feeling confused. She could feel the weight of Mae and Oliver's gazes but tried to ignore them as she struggled to sort through twenty-three years of baggage.

There was a pause on the other end of the phone. When Alaric spoke, there wasn't an ounce of uncertainty in his voice. "Kaitlyn."

For a moment, she was nineteen again. She remembered the way Alaric had watched medical documentaries with her even though he was hopelessly squeamish, the way Mae had taught them how to do shots together, the way that he'd comforted her as she slowly fell out of love with Oliver and into a deep confusion. She remembered his bright blue eyes, how sad and broken they'd been the day Oliver threw him out of the palace. She remembered how she'd hated Oliver in that moment and felt so powerless to her traitorous heart.

She wondered a million things—how he was doing, whether his hair had started to gray, if the little lines still appeared at the corners of his eyes when he was really smiling as they had all those years ago. Mostly, she wondered if he had been happy all these years, as she did every night before she fell asleep. But she'd never been the best at expressing her feelings, so instead, she forced out, "I'm sorry to bother you."

"No bother," Alaric insisted. She could hear the smile in his voice. Mae and Oliver both pretended not to be able to hear, even though the phone was on speaker.

She tried to stop her heart from jumping into her throat, but it was as traitorous as it had been in her youth. She swallowed deeply. "I was calling for Lady Raina," she explained, "For her medical history. I'm filling in as the palace physician during the Selection."

"Oh." Alaric paused, and Kaitlyn desperately wished she could see his face. "That's great. I'm really happy for you." Another pause. "Uh, Raina is actually at dance class."

Her heart sank back to the depths of her chest, as his statement brought the end of their conversation into sight. But then he added, "Can I help you instead?" She had to take a steadying breath and fight to keep her face neutral before she agreed.

While she asked the exact same questions she had in the previous calls, the conversation was different. Mae wandered over to join Oliver at his report, leaving her alone in her conversation. The king and queen both seemed uncomfortable, but nothing could have brought her down in that moment. She felt more at home in the palace than she had since she was nineteen years old.

There was hesitation on both of their parts as she drew to the end of the call. "Well, that looks like everything," Kaitlyn remarked.

"You sure?" joked Alaric, "I have a whole list of 'height through the ages' or, uh, you know, a history of hairstyles?"

Kaitlyn laughed, her smile crinkling the corner of her eyes. "Thank you, but I think that's a little outside my scope," she noted. She paused, but the silence between them wasn't uncomfortable. "It was really nice to talk to you, Alaric."

"Yeah," agreed Alaric. She could almost see his smile in her mind. "It was great to hear from you, Kaitlyn. I've…" He trailed off. She knew why. There was no way to sum it all up in a single sentence.

Her throat felt thick with emotion. "Me too, Alaric," she smiled, tears stinging her eyes, "Take care." He echoed her sentiment, and then there was a click on the other end of the phone. It wasn't until the dial tone began to sound that Kaitlyn jolted back to life.

"Are you okay?" Mae asked, her brow furrowed.

"Uh huh," Kaitlyn nodded as she flipped the page on her clipboard. She took a deep breath as she tried to compartmentalize the conversation, tucking it away safely in the drawer with the other memories. "So, what's the next number?"

* * *

119 Days Before

Growing up, Calliope Gauge had rarely been at odds with her father, which she supposed was a good thing. They were very similar, both hard-headed, determined, and usually convinced that they were right.

They also happened to be all each other had, which made their disagreements even worse. Even before her mother had left them to start a new, more glamorous life with her billionaire boyfriend when Calli was four years old, she'd always had a closer relationship with her father. They just understood each other.

Except when they didn't, and Calli hate those times more than anything. Currently, the pair were embroiled in their worst dispute since the Great College Conflict of her senior year of high school when she'd announced that she wanted to attend a university across the country in Waverly. The general had eventually come around on that front, since the school of her choice was one of the most prestigious universities in Illéa, but this time, such resolution seemed doubtful.

She had spent the last month agonizing over the different job offers she'd received after graduation. Her phenomenal grades and the internships that she'd done with Seymour Enterprises throughout college had basically made the engineering field her oyster, and she'd been fortunate enough to be able to really consider her options. But she knew what job she wanted, and so did her father, which had caused friction in the Gauge household for weeks before the Selection announcement had been made.

She understood why her dad didn't want her to take the job offer that she'd received from Seymour Enterprises as a weapon's engineer at Pacifica. She knew he was concerned because of the war in Europe. If Illéa got involved, her position put her in danger of deployment, as they would need on-site specialists.

But she also knew that she didn't work her ass off her entire life to take a safe, cushy desk job. This was what she'd always wanted to. She remembered when Xander Seymour had shown her father the first of his new warship deliveries when she was a child and how she'd marveled at the innovation. She'd always viewed weapons as things that kept people like her father safe. She'd declined to use her connections with the Seymours to get a foot in the door and had worked twice as hard to be recognized in a male dominated field throughout college.

Her father's disapproval was the only thing that had stopped her from accepting it immediately. She'd spent the last two weeks desperately trying to come up with some way to convince him, because she truly did hate the idea of doing something he was so staunchly opposed to, but when Nolan had told her about the Selection, it had been like a beacon of hope. If she was Selected, she'd be forced to stay in Angeles for an indeterminable amount of time. Pacifica would be the only job she'd be able to accept.

Of course, she did want to look out for Nolan, who she'd grown up with. She knew that he struggled with anxiety and could only imagine what a challenge the Selection would be for him, although he'd try his hardest to conceal it throughout the entire process.

But Nolan was, occasionally, naive, and she hated the idea of someone as sweet and genuine as Nolan being tricked by some manipulative social climber, so she'd offered to enter almost without a second thought. Of course, it hadn't been until he'd told her that he'd actually switched the Angeles files that she'd fully considered the implications of her offer.

Truthfully, she'd marry Nolan if it turned out that his match wasn't in his group of Selected. She doubted it would come to that, because she knew what kind of parents Mae and Oliver were, but she'd do it. She'd grown up close with the queen because of her father's position and her own lack of a maternal figure, and she was confident that she could do the job if she had to. Besides, Calli had never been particularly concerned with finding some epic love. She had always been more focused on achieving her goals.

When her father had asked her if she wanted to attend _The Report_ with him a few days previous, she'd declined. They were usual fixtures in the audience whenever Calli was home, but since her father didn't know she'd even entered the Selection, his reaction wasn't exactly something she wanted to witness.

She instead explained that she was going to spend the evening with her best friend, Kingsley. Kingsley had always hated _The Report_ , because he said the formality of it reminded him that he wasn't a _real_ member of the Schreave family. Calli always maintained that he was being ridiculous whenever he brought up the fact that he was adopted—as she doubted Tristan and Isolde could have loved a biological child more—but Kingsley also happened to be incredibly stubborn.

So, under cover of the distraction that _The Report_ offered, she and Kingsley had collected a round of beer for strength, and she'd typed her acceptance letter. He had to hype her up to actually press the send button, but once she had, all of her nervousness and concerns had disappeared, and she was left convinced she'd made the right choice.

But now, it was only another thing to add to the list of reasons why Cooper was upset with her. So far, it was: that she hadn't told him she'd entered the Selection; that she'd let Nolan compromise the integrity of the process by intentionally picking her; and that she'd accepted her new job position behind his back and without considering his concerns. She knew it wasn't her finest moment, but when her father had angrily laid out his grievances, she'd stubbornly protested that it was the only way to get the job that she'd worked so hard for. So, the pair had lapsed into a frosty game of "the silent treatment."

When she'd joined Nolan and Lea for a Monday morning brunch and given them a brief run-down of how the weekend had gone, Nolan seemed uncomfortable. "Is he, like, _really_ mad at us?" he frowned. "Or just… sort of mad? Would it help if I sent him an edible arrangement?"

Edible arrangements were Nolan's fail-safe way of placating people. Calli and Lea both tried to conceal their amusement, though the former was far more successful. "He's not mad at you," Calli assured him, "Just me, his traitorous offspring."

Nolan frowned. "It's probably not too late to call Antonia Michaelson."

This time, they did laugh. "Are you kidding?" countered Calli. "I have to stick around to get the drop on these girls and let them know if they mess with you, they're gonna have to answer to me. Especially now that there's an Illéa in the bunch."

"What are the odds?" Lea smirked. "Honestly, Nolan, you have the worst luck."

"Don't remind me," moaned the prince.

"Does anyone actually know what happened with Oliver and Alaric Illéa?" Calli wondered aloud. "My dad mentioned once that Alaric was temporarily given a position at St. Sebastian's here in Angeles."

"Aunt Celine told me that he was almost Dad's Lord Privy Seal," Lea added. "But no. I've asked Mom a million times, and all I've ever gotten was 'it's complicated.'"

Calli thoughtfully chewed on a piece of toast. "I'm interested to see what Raina's like," she noted, "I know that Regan Illéa-Dragomirov is like actually crazy."

"How do you know that?" inquired Nolan suspiciously, "Maybe she's just… misunderstood."

Calli rolled her eyes. "Please. Her name is always popping up in Dad's intelligence briefings. Probably more than Nikolai's but decidedly less than Marid's."

"You shouldn't read those, Cal," Nolan pointed out.

Calli grinned as she grabbed a banana for the road. "And you shouldn't purposely pick people for what's supposed to be a random process, but here we are," she teased, causing Nolan to blush. She gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Calm down. It's fine. No one can prove you put my form in."

Before Nolan had a chance to counter her statement, Lea asked, "Are you off to Pacifica?"

Calli beamed. "Indeed I am," she declared brightly. "I'm filling out all of my paperwork today. Oliver gave me permission to go twice a week once the Selection starts, so I'll just be part-time for the time being, but they told me it was fine. They're probably afraid to rock the boat too much. I know my dad already gave Xander an earful over the phone Saturday morning."

"Yikes," giggled Lea. "Well, if I may, you have picked a great first day outfit." Calli gave a little twirl, grateful for Lea's comment on her jumpsuit and heels.

"Everything's going to work out," Calli decided, as though she could will such a belief into existence. She hugged both the twins goodbye before she left the palace to begin her trip to the military base.

Pacifica was located on an island off the coast of Angeles, about a thirty-minute drive and a brief ferry ride from the palace. She'd seen pictures of its early stages of development, and it had come a long way since then. While the intention had been for it to be strictly a naval base, the island was large enough that, over the years, it had been adapted into a joint base with separate designations for the air force and army as well. It was like its own little military city, and Calli loved it.

Since she didn't have to stop for new credentials as she'd had a military ID all her life, she decided to use the spare time to grab herself a coffee at one of the cafeterias before she headed to the building where Seymour Enterprises' Angeles location was based. While she waited, her eyes swept the cafeteria, and she realized she was perhaps the only person currently in civilian clothing.

Her father had announced an increase in enlistment initiatives a few weeks ago, and she knew that there had been an influx to bases around the country resultantly, including Pacifica, but she was still surprised by the sheer number of new and young faces. It was a good thing she'd never been a sucker for a man in uniform, or she would've been in trouble, she decided.

After she collected her drink, she was about to make her way from the cafeteria when someone called her name. She turned in the direction of the sound to see a familiar face and took a detour to pull the man into a hug.

Captain Wilson Mack was in his early thirties and had been stationed at Pacifica since he was Calli's age. Despite his rank and the fact that he oversaw a company of men, he'd always been one of the more easy-going officers, the type of person that was impossible to dislike. "Who are the new friends, Mackie?" Calli asked when she noticed she didn't recognize any of the men with him.

"New recruits," Mack explained, a grin lighting up his dark face. "Lieutenants Finn Cojocaru, Ryder Illéa, Mark Hampton, and Anthony Levitts. Guys, this is Calliope Gauge."

She'd tried not to look too surprised when Mack mentioned Lieutenant Illéa's name, although her eyes did jump to do a quick inspection of him. She knew that Alaric Illéa had a son in addition to the daughter that would be arriving in Angeles for the Selection shortly, but she hadn't expected to run into him at Pacifica or for him to be so… well, hot.

But before she could say anything at all, Lieutenant Hampton spoke up. "So, what brings you to Pacifica today, Mrs. Gauge?"

Her forehead crinkled in annoyance. There was no way she looked old enough to be her father's age. "Miss," she corrected, "General Gauge is my father."

He took the correction in stride, not even pausing to offer an apology for his mistake. "Come to have lunch with your dad?" he assumed as he nodded at the coffee and uneaten banana in her hand. He gave her a smile, like he thought that she was being thoroughly charmed by their interaction. In reality, she was struggling not to roll her eyes. "Really sweet of you."

"Oh, here we go," Mack muttered, very aware of how little Calli tolerated being patronized by anyone, particularly men.

"Actually, I'm here for work," Calli explained, her tone illustrating that she was not amenable to continuing the conversation with Hampton.

Luckily, the first man, Lieutenant Cojocaru, spoke up. "What department do you work in?" he asked, far more politely than Hampton.

Before Calli could answer, Hampton decided to begin an ill-advised guessing game. "Secretary?" he guessed. Mack's eyes were saucers, as though he was trying to silently order the young man to shut up.

But then it got worse, as Levitts decided to join as well. "Nurse?" he suggested.

"Assistant?" Hampton tried.

Before Calli could explode, Ryder Illéa spoke up. "I have a feeling you work in something far above our pay grade," he noted. His face looked amused, like he had no idea how to figure her out but was certainly up for the challenge.

She smirked. It was rare that people didn't underestimate her—as there was no way that a friendly, attractive young woman could actually be _smart_ —so she enjoyed getting the credit she deserved immensely. "I'm a mechanical engineer for Seymour Enterprises," she explained.

Hampton and Levitts looked floored, while Cojocaru and Illéa looked impressed. "How'd Daddy get you into that?" chuckled Hampton, earning a laugh from Levitts.

"Oh, now you've done it," Mack sighed.

Calli's eyes narrowed. "You know, since I'll be engineering any weapons that could save your life if we ever enter this war, it's a good thing for you that my father had nothing to do with how I got my position, Hampton," she declared, "My degree from Lockewood University and the fact that I was the most qualified applicant of either gender took care of that."

"As stimulating as this conversation has been, I have to get to work," she continued. "Nice to see you, Mack." She started for the exit once more, invigorated by the rush of adrenaline that she often felt after dismissing sexist remarks.

She'd only gotten a few feet away when Illéa called, "Hope I see you around."

She paused, pivoting on her heels to examine him once more. She'd heard that the Illéas were an attractive family in general, and he certainly didn't disappoint with his vibrant blue eyes, light hair, and discernably muscular build. Unsure of what to make of him, she replied with a smirk and a noncommittal "hmm" before she departed. But as she made her way towards the Seymour building, a smile that she found difficult to fight tugged at the corners of her mouth.


	6. 117 Days Before

**Author's Note:** Long chapter, so I suggest a snack. Thank you SO much to everyone who sent in characters. Picking the Selected was incredibly hard, but I hope you enjoy meeting some this chapter. This is not all of them, so if I've messaged you that your character's been selected but you don't see her, please don't freak out. Let me know what you think :D

* * *

Chapter Five: 117 Days Before

For maybe the fifth time in his life, Nolan was late of his own volition.

Not even kind of late—a solid twenty minutes late. He was completely aware of it too, but as he laid in bed and watched the minute hand of the clock tick by, he couldn't make himself move. Being late—or missing the afternoon all together—seemed much less intimidating than forcing himself to meet thirty-five strangers who probably had all sorts of preconceived notions and expectations about him.

He hadn't intended to be late, of course. In fact, to help him deal with the stress of the day, he'd rigidly scheduled his morning. Everything from breakfast to a morning workout with Bayer to his suit fitting had been planned down to the minute, and he was comfortable with the time that he'd given himself.

He was supposed to meet the girls once their makeovers were over, and while his father had suggested a party to make everyone feel comfortable, he'd decided to host a brunch during which he could meet them one-on-one so he didn't feel quite as overwhelmed. Everyone loved brunch, and it would give the girls something to keep them distracted during his meetings. Additionally, since Nolan hated dealing with drunk people, though he had plenty of experience thanks to Bayer, he hoped the early hour would discourage the girls from turning to alcohol as a form of liquid courage. It was a perfect plan.

While his mother would only be making a brief appearance so as not to intimidate the girls too much and his father was unavailable due to work, the rest of his friends would be there for moral support, as well as to socialize with the girls. He'd asked his sister to join him in the private meetings, since Lea found it much easier to engage with new people than he did, and she'd excitedly agreed. Unlike Nolan, she was genuinely looking forward to the start of the Selection.

But when Lea appeared in his room at ten minutes to one, she was surprised to find her brother in bed. "What are you doing?" she asked, brow creased. "Why aren't you ready?"

Nolan examined his sister. In accordance with her preferences, she looked like the pinnacle of a princess, dressed in a blush pink gown with a flowered bodice and a skirt that stopped around her knees in the front and fell to the ground in the back. "I told you to look casual," sighed Nolan.

Lea shrugged. "This is casual. For me."

She had a point. He was lucky she hadn't shown up in a ball gown.

"Come on," she urged, pulling on the edge of his duvet. Nolan glared at her and gathered the blanket closer to his chin. "You're going to be late."

"I know." Technically, he was already late. It would take him at least twenty minutes to get ready, and he had about five.

Rarely did Lea look perplexed by her brother, as she was one of the few people who understood and took Nolan's peculiarities in stride. But now, her eyebrows knit together in confusion. "You hate being late."

"I know," repeated Nolan.

"So, get up," ordered Lea, further baffled.

He shook his head. "I can't go," he decided.

"Nolan," sighed Lea, "You _have_ to."

"Just tell them I'm sick," he suggested, "I do have a bit of an earache."

Lea rolled her eyes. "Even if you're 'sick' today, you're going to have to meet them at some point, and then they're just going to be unimpressed by your flakiness."

He knew that she was right, but it didn't seem to matter at that moment. His supreme concern was sparing himself from that day's discomfort. "I'll deal with it then," he decided.

Instead of arguing, Lea crossed her arms and swept from the room. Nolan relaxed, thinking she had given in. However, when she returned a short time later with Kingsley, his triumphant feelings disappeared. "Tattle tale," he shot at Lea accusingly.

Kingsley was three years older than the twins, but something about his demeanor had always seemed to give him an extra few years or at least a sagacity than Nolan had always envied. In some ways, he'd been more like an older brother to both Nolan and Lea than a cousin and far more than the "adopted relative" that he often described himself as. If being a member of the royal family was hard, Kingsley had always found it harder to not be a biological member.

He didn't scold Nolan, only crossed his arms and smiled. "If you were looking for a lie in, today was probably not the day."

Nolan frowned. Much like an older sibling, he supposed, Kingsley's mere presence always made him feel like he needed to do better. Although he knew that _technically_ Kingsley wasn't in line for the crown, as he wasn't a blood member of the royal family, he'd always been intimidated by how adept at ruling Kingsley would have been. He was unshakeable, logical, and an incredible leader. There was a reason he'd progressed in the military so quickly, and it wasn't because of his familial connections.

"I'm just…" Nolan frowned, unsure of what the word was.

"I know," Kingsley assured him. He glanced at Lea. "Why don't you go tell the girls that some kind of royal business came up and Nolan will be along shortly?"

Once Lea was gone, Kingsley stepped into Nolan's closet. He reappeared with the suit, shirt, and tie that had been laid out for the prince and tossed them on Nolan's bed. Then, he made his way to the chest on Nolan's dresser that housed his expensive accessories and fished his signet ring, a pair of cufflinks, and a tie bar from inside. He didn't verbally order Nolan to get up, but his presence alone was enough that when he turned back around, Nolan was already fastening his slacks.

"I really don't want to do this," Nolan admitted as his stomach churned. His fingers were incompetent as he struggled with the buttons of his shirt, and Kingsley decided not to let him fight with his tie, taking it into his own hands. Kingsley worked for a minute, and when Nolan realized he was tying a trinity knot, he did perk up slightly. Looking put together usually improved his mood.

"I know this is like telling a bird not to sing, but try not to freak out, Nol," Kingsley instructed as he clipped the tie bar in place and handed over the cufflinks. "What's so intimidating about these girls?"

"More just the fact that they're girls," Nolan noted, "particularly ones that I've never met. And besides, have you looked at their backgrounds? There's actresses, models, heirs to companies that have almost as much money as the crown."

"And _you_ are the crown prince," Kingsley challenged. "You are going to be in charge of their country. None of these people are as powerful as you or have as much responsibility. Do you know what people ask me about the most when I first meet them?"

"How do you get such good hair?" Nolan guessed as he eyed his cousin's curls.

Kingsley rolled his eyes. " _You_. They say, 'What's Nolan really like?' And do you know what I tell them?"

"A big baby?" mused the prince.

This time, Kingsley reached out, grabbing his younger cousin's shoulder in a tight grip. "I tell them that you are the most capable person I've ever met," he declared, "and that you are going to be an incredible king, possibly even better than your father."

With the intensity of Kingsley's gaze focused on him, Nolan felt a bit ridiculous for trying to hide in bed. "Lea's unfair," he noted, "sending in the cavalry."

"That's what I'm here for," Kingsley smiled. "Now, come on. You've got some girls to meet."

Perhaps it was the adrenaline or Kingsley's pep talk or just that he was very adept at hiding what he really felt, but when the guards standing outside the ballroom where their brunch was being held opened the doors, Nolan was standing tall and smiling easily. A hush fell over the room as all eyes turned to him.

He could see his friends and even his mother scattered throughout the scads of new faces, and he focused on them as he addressed the girls for the first time. His father had encouraged him to be candid with them and just say whatever he felt in the moment, but that was a much more Oliver approach, so Nolan had prepared a speech. He told himself that he certainly did not feel his pulse quickening and focused on the words that he'd memorized.

"Welcome to the palace, everyone," he began. "I know that some of you have traveled incredibly far and all of you are giving up a lot to be here today, so first and foremost, thank you for joining me. The Selection is a time-honored tradition in our country and one that I've seen the success of first-hand, so I am confident that this process will be an amazing experience. Today, I plan to meet with each of you for introductory purposes and to hopefully figure out if it would be beneficial for you to remain here going forward. I know it can be fruitless at times, but I urge you not to be nervous. While you're waiting, please enjoy the brunch that my lovely mother has put together for you and take some time to get to know each other, as well as anyone else that might be lingering around."

The girls politely applauded, and he nodded at Lea. She gave a list to their uncle Tristan, who would be escorting each of the girls to the small library down the hall where Nolan would be doing his introductions, before the twins retreated from the room. "You did great," she complimented.

Nolan ignored her, instead pausing to lean against a wall and take a deep breath. It was one thing to know that thirty-five girls were going to be a part of the Selection. It was another to _see_ thirty-five strangers in his home. "Nolan?" Lea asked, looking nervous.

He ignored her, instead searching for a deep breath. _Keep it together_ , he ordered himself.

He didn't have time to freak out though, because he heard a surprising voice call his name. "Dad?" he frowned, jumping off the wall and turning around. "I thought you had meetings all day."

"I do," Oliver admitted, "I just escaped for a quick second to check in and see how things were going."

"Good," Nolan lied, pushing down his fear. If his father had done a Selection, he could too. Besides, he didn't want to tell Oliver how nervous he was about it. The king had enough on his mind with the tensions abroad.

"Good," nodded Oliver. He shifted his weight between his feet, making Nolan frown. Nervous fidgeting was much more his mode of operation than his father's.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

"Uh…" Oliver glanced between his children.

Lea frowned. "Um, I'm going to go make sure everything's ready for the first meeting," she remarked. She departed down the hallway, casting a cautious glance back at her father and brother.

"What's wrong?" Nolan asked with a frown.

"Nothing," Oliver assured him, "I just had some… advice."

"Oh." Nolan still wasn't convinced. "Okay."

More nervous shifting from Oliver. "It's no secret that some girls enter the Selection for the money," he remarked, "and that's alright. They don't know us or how they'll feel once they meet us. But if you suspect that you don't have a connection with someone, I know it's also tempting to keep them around for their benefit, particularly if they have a difficult home life and could benefit from the compensation."

The prince's eyebrows furrowed. "Dad, what are you trying to say?" he asked. It wasn't like his father to beat around the bush.

"Don't hesitate to eliminate girls today if you don't feel anything," Oliver declared. "Or at any point. Frankly… the Selection can be expensive. It's unwise to support ladies out of guilt when we have an entire country to think of."

It was an odd thing to think about, as money had never been something that had particularly concerned Nolan. "Oh. Uh… okay."

The tension faded from the king's face for a moment. "Good luck," he smiled. "And try to have some fun. I remember what the first day is like. Well… actually, it's a vague memory. I sort of…"

"Got drunk and climbed into a fountain?" Nolan chuckled. "I know. Aunt Is told me."

"Of course she did," Oliver scoffed with a roll of his eyes. "Well, I'm sure we don't have to worry about that with you."

"Definitely not," agreed Nolan with a chuckle. His father gave him a brief hug before they parted, and Nolan joined his sister in the library. "Let's get this thing started," he sighed as he took his seat. "Who's up first?"

"Lady Murphy O'Hara," Lea announced.

"The cheerleader," Nolan noted.

"'Player support,'" corrected his sister in accordance with how Murphy's form had described her occupation.

A moment later, the door opened, and a small girl stepped into the room. She was dressed in a lacey white dress that hugged her body to her knees, and her brown hair had been carefully curled, though she'd pushed it behind her ears. She had a delicate, unique appearance that he found intriguing, though he tried not to inspect her for too long when he noticed that her face wasn't turned up in a smile.

When Murphy paused in front of them, she hesitated before she swooped her leg back in an awkward curtsey. Nolan jumped to his feet and held a hand out to her instead. "No need to curtsey," he offered, "They feel antiquated anyway."

Murphy gave an amused smile—the kind that lit up both her big doe eyes and her entire face. "Yes," she agreed, "because a handshake is so much more casual."

Nolan blushed, and Lea tried to hide her smile by picking up her mimosa. He slowly retracted his hand and gestured to the seat across from him, trying not to let himself feel shaken by Murphy's joke. "So, uh, you're from Carolina, right?"

Murphy nodded. "Ever been?"

"Yeah, actually," Nolan confirmed, "My aunt Isolde and great-grandmother were both from Carolina."

"Maybe that's a good sign then," remarked Murphy. She and Lea exchanged a pleasant chuckle, while Nolan just flushed.

"So, tell me about home," he requested.

Murphy pursed her lips. "I'm hoping Angeles is better," is all she offered.

Nolan glanced at Lea for help. "So, you go to Redcliffe?" she asked with a smile. "What do you study?"

This was a much better question than the one that Nolan had posed, as Murphy began to tell them about her law program. She sounded determined, which Nolan liked, and there was no doubt in his mind that Murphy would be a lawyer one day if she truly wanted to. It reminded him of Calli in a way, although he questioned whether Murphy had the same passion for her chosen profession as Calli did.

It wasn't a bad start to the afternoon, and when Murphy departed, Nolan didn't have the overwhelming desire to send her packing, which he was glad about. "I liked her," he remarked to his sister.

"Yeah?" Lea asked, her face lighting up.

"Oh, calm down," he instructed, "Still thirty-four left."

His intention had been to spend at least five minutes with each of the girls, but after the first couple of meetings when he realized that would keep them there for three hours, he tried to speed it up somewhat. There were some girls that he met and immediately understood what his father had been trying to explain to him in the hallway earlier. He surprised Lea a few times when he concluded meetings with "thank you for your time" and sent the girls politely back to their home provinces.

But others stuck out. He was amused when Lady Ernesta Effingham—or Ernie, as she offered they call her—saluted him, but it made sense when she explained that she was a first lieutenant in the air force, a rank below Kingsley. Another, Lady Safiya, was a popular actress. Nolan had a feeling that he offended her when he mentioned he hadn't seen any of her movies, and he made it worse when he tried to explain that he simply didn't prefer newer movies. Lea had choked on her mimosa at that point, and he'd dismissed Lady Safiya apologetically right after so he could pull himself together.

Although some conversations were good, he could feel the impact of the day as time dragged on. He was trying hard to project public Nolan, the one who wasn't anxious or afraid and could control his stress. But by the time he'd made it through half of the girls, he felt exhausted, like the veneer might crack at any moment.

Luckily, at that moment, a good distraction entered the room. He recognized the girl as Lady Margo, and he found himself adequately amused when her gaze fell to Lea instead of him. She curtsied, and when Lea invited her to sit, she declared, "Your Highness, I _love_ your gown."

This brought a smile to Lea's face. "Thank you, Lady Margo," she beamed, sending a pointed look at her brother. " _Someone_ thought that it was too formal."

"Not at all!" countered Margo, "You're like a walking fairytale."

Nolan rolled his eyes as Lea preened under the praise and remembered that Margo was the editor-in-chief of a fashion magazine. "Editor-in-chief at your age is quite an accomplishment, Lady Margo," Nolan noted.

She turned her bright smile from Lea to him. "Thank you, Your Highness," she replied. "I definitely think that good work ethics are important."

It was a sentiment that Nolan certainly shared, and by the time Lady Margo left, Nolan realized that he might enjoy spending more time with her, which was a comforting feeling. However, he didn't have much time to linger on Margo as a new figure glided into the room.

He would have recognized her even without having inspected her form, as Lady Isadora Alistair belonged to a very wealthy, well-known family. Nolan had never met her, but he knew that Xander Seymour had interacted with her family business before and had heard mixed reviews from him.

Isadora paused before the twins and curtsied perfectly before she produced a folded envelope from the pocket of her dress. She held it out, and Nolan had to ask, "Uh, for me?", which she confirmed with a nod. After he'd taken the letter, she gave a lovely smile before she turned and exited the room.

Nolan cast a confused look at Lea, who shrugged and nodded at the envelope. He unfolded it to see a neat, elegant cursive handwriting. _I'd love the chance to get to know you, perhaps just the two of us, later this afternoon._

"Gutsy," remarked Lea.

"Intriguing," Nolan added. It certainly left an impression, and he pocketed the letter before preparing himself for the next meeting.

They continued to work their way down the list, and while Nolan did send many more girls home, there were also some he instinctually liked. There was a painter named Simone with such beautiful curly hair that he was sure Orlando was going to be jealous and a ghost tour guide named Gwen that described the French quarter so beautifully that Nolan found himself saying maybe they'd see it together one day.

A few also made him feel a little uncertain and exposed. In particular, he met a shy girl named January that he wasn't sure what to make of. Additionally, Lady Kylee researched mental disorders, and Nolan had found himself on edge with her, trying to conceal any signs of his anxiety that might peak through.

Finally, and miraculously, they made it to the last girl. But as Nolan considered the thirty-four that he'd encountered, he realized who the last girl was, and as he saw her approaching the doorway, he also realized that he wanted to meet her on his own without Lea. Nolan grabbed his sister's elbow. "Can you go see what Alex is up to?" he asked distractedly.

Lea looked confused. "What? Why?"

Nolan feigned casualness. "I've got it from here," he lied.

"But we still have a few girls left, I think." She reached for her list, but Nolan knew when she saw who was left, it'd be impossible to get her to leave.

His nerves spiked as he watched Raina get closer. " _Lea_ ," he glared, frustrated, "please just go."

His sister looked offended, but she raised her hands in defeat before she strode from the library. She passed Raina on her way down the hallway, and when the brunette paused to bow to the princess, Lea glanced over her shoulder with wide eyes at Nolan as if to demand what he was thinking meeting the Illéa on his own. He ignored his sister, instead standing as his uncle Tristan announced Lady Raina.

Raina was even more beautiful up close. She had a delicate appearance and reminded Nolan a little of storybook fairies with her tiny hands, button-nose, and large eyes framed by thick lashes. She wore a blush gown with a navy ribbon that reminded him of a ballerina, and her dark brown hair fell over her shoulder in soft curls. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement—or blush, Nolan couldn't be sure—and her glossy lips smiled up at him.

One of the reasons he'd been so intrigued by her at first was that she resembled her aunt Regan heavily. The two had none of the lightness of the male Illéas, no vibrant blue eyes or blonde hair. But Nolan also realized that up close, Raina certainly was not Regan. While the tsarina was imposing and statuesque with sharp angles that made her seem carved from stone, Raina seemed soft and gentle.

He didn't realize he'd been staring until she curtsied. "Your Highness."

Her voice was kind and sweet and brought an unwitting smile to his lips. After the horror stories he'd heard about Marid and Regan, he'd almost expected her to lead with an insult or some jibe. It was a little like entering a haunted house and expecting to meet a demon but being presented with Caspar the friendly ghost instead.

They both took their seats and tried to discreetly inspect each other. After a few minutes of silence, he realized he needed to say something, or things were going to get uncomfortable.

But when he did speak, the topic his instincts had decided to go with was so awkward that he briefly considered excusing himself so that he could throw himself off the library's balcony. "So, we're related."

Raina's eyes widened, and her mouth fell open in surprise. "Distantly!" she amended. "I asked my father before I entered. Our great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandparents were cousins."

"By marriage," Nolan added, his own face red with embarrassment. He was such an idiot. Raina nodded energetically in agreement, and they lapsed into a much more awkward silence.

He wasn't sure what Raina was thinking in the span of quiet—probably regretting ever filling out the form that had led her to the palace—but he was busy with a mental beratement of himself and his stupidity. He'd come up with safe topics of conversation for Raina Illéa, given their families' tenuous pasts, and the fact that they were distant relatives by marriage was certainly not one of them.

He didn't realize how intense his internal scrutiny had become until Raina's dark eyebrows furrowed in concern. "Um, are you alright, Nol—Your Highness?"

And then he noticed his hands were shaking, and he was blinking much faster than normal.

Oh, god.

It was his worst fear, and it was happening.

"If I could just have a minute," he managed to squeak out as he stood. He turned his back to Raina, crossing to one of the windows behind him and grabbing the edge of the windowsill with white knuckled hands. He tried to order himself to breathe in and out slowly, but when he realized that Kingsley hadn't slipped a bottle of pills into his jacket pocket in his haste to get Nolan to brunch, he went into a full and complete panic. He was vaguely aware of Raina saying his name, but it felt distant, muffled.

He tried to keep his back from shuddering and alerting Raina to his current struggle, but he was taking five inhales for every exhale that he managed. Sweat dampened his forehead, his vision wobbled, his frantic heartbeat pounded in his ears, and he tried to tell himself _it's just a panic attack, it's just a panic attack_ , but it felt like he was suffocating, like the air was slowly being drained from the room by some invisible force, and no matter how hard he tried to drink it in, it disappeared, and his lungs screamed in protest in his chest, and he was choking—

When his knees buckled, he suddenly felt a pair of hands on his arms. Raina's face swam into focus as she fell to the floor with him, and it made it worse to realize he was at the mercy of someone who probably hated his family. He tried to pull away, but his limbs felt like lead, and he couldn't move them. "Nolan," Raina repeated, her voice louder and stronger than he would've thought possible. She grabbed either side of his face. "Look at me, Nolan," she ordered.

"Tell me five things that you can see."

What?

When he didn't respond, still trying to drink in any iota of air possible, she repeated it. "Five things, Nolan," she instructed. "Right now."

The room felt like it was wobbling, but he tried to focus on anything other than the stabbing pain the lack of air was causing in his chest cavity. "The clock," he squeezed out, swallowing down the hammering feeling of his heart in his throat, "Sword over the fireplace."

"Three more," Raina ordered, nodding encouragingly.

He realized he was clutching her skirt in his shaking hands. "Dress. It's pink." She nodded again and offered him a smile that looked strangely proud.

"Windows," he noted, and when he looked to them, the light didn't make him squint as much as it had seconds ago. "A-and—" He had to take another shuddering breath and really focus. His eyes landed on hers. "Your eyes. Hazel. Amber at the center, green towards the edge."

She inhaled deeply before she smiled. "Four things you can touch now," she instructed.

He closed his eyes and tried for another shakey breath. It came slightly easier, as though the band that had constricted his lungs had been pulled back ever so slightly. "The floor. Pants. Skirt—tulle, I think."

"One more," she encouraged.

He remembered her hands on his cheeks, and he reached for one. "Your hand."

He opened his eyes. It felt like he could feel his body again and control it, although he still felt too tightly wound. "Good," smiled Raina, "Now three things you can hear."

He frowned. "My heartbeat," he realized. It still felt too loud and frantic.

"What else?" countered Raina. "Listen."

"You." He realized that she was breathing more quickly than normal too, likely uneasy herself. Before she could instruct him to listen for something else, he added, "Birds. Outside."

"Two things you can smell," was her next instruction.

He inhaled, and he was so focused on her task that he didn't realize that it was just as easy to exhale now. "Lavender and vanilla," he realized. It must've been her perfume.

"Good," she beamed, "Now one thing you can taste."

He considered it for a minute and blushed slightly before he admitted, "Salt. Sweat." He released the hand that had been pressed over hers and pulled back slightly, suddenly self-conscious about the fact that he was a sweaty mess, and she was touching him.

He stood and backed away as embarrassment flooded him. Raina was silent, focusing on the ground where he'd been a moment before. "I'd appreciate it if you kept this between us," he finally declared after a heavy silence. He still sounded winded, but at least his voice came at its normal pitch instead of a squeak.

"Of course." Raina sounded slightly hurt that he'd felt the need to request such a thing.

He wanted to say something else—to apologize or explain or ask that they put it behind them, _anything_ —but instead, he went into flight mode. The combination of meeting an Illéa, the panic attack, and what had been an oddly intimate exchange was too much. "Excuse me," he muttered before he turned on his heel and left the confused girl sitting on the floor of the library as he disappeared back to the royal family's floor, finished with the day.

* * *

The girls all seemed disappointed when Princess Leanna floated back into the room and informed them that Nolan had taken to bed with a headache. While Cheryl was a little let down as well, she understood. There'd been many times when her blood sugar had spiked or dipped, and she'd had to miss out on something that she'd been looking forward to. Since Lea had explained that they were welcome to enjoy the rest of the evening and the refreshments, Cheryl grabbed the most innocuous looking item on the menu—a kale smoothie; how dangerous could a kale smoothie be?—and took stock of the room.

Even with Nolan absent, it was clear that there were people to impress. His close friends still lingered throughout the room, looking far more relaxed than Nolan had in his one-on-one meetings. Cheryl supposed it was easier for the others, who didn't have all the duties a crown prince would and tried to decide which she should approach first.

Prince Bayer Schreave—as attractive in person as he was in all the magazines—was talking with some of girls who'd chosen tighter, lower cut dresses, so she decided to try to catch him later. Across the room, Orlando Phineas—a LGBT icon that her best friend from home, Trey, would absolutely kill her for not speaking to—seemed to be having a spirited conversation with Guinevere, who had insisted on their flight that they all call her Gwen. Lea and Alex seemed to be in their own little world with each other for the time being, and she couldn't bear to interrupt their adorableness. She spied Kingsley Woodwork—as attractive as any of the Schreaves, in Cheryl's humble opinion—with Calliope and remembered reading in a magazine that they were close friends.

As she sipped her smoothie, Cheryl considered the rest of the room. She supposed she could talk to some of the other girls while she waited for the perfect moments to introduce herself to the royals and Nolan's friends. She loved meeting people, and since she'd be with them for the foreseeable future (if Nolan didn't eliminate her, like, tomorrow), what was the harm in making some friends?

The twenty-five girls that had made it through their meetings with the prince had a broad range of personalities from what Cheryl had seen throughout the day. Some were forward and flirty, embracing their bodies in daring outfits; some had the kind of quiet confidence that made it obvious they knew how to rock a room; and some were a little quieter, choosing to hang out on the outskirts of the room and observe instead of fully engaging.

One of the girls that fell into the latter category caught Cheryl's eye. She was a small, delicate looking girl but one who was instantly recognizable: Raina Illéa. Of course, Cheryl had seen her picture on television when all the other Selected had been announced, but she also remembered Raina from magazines and newspapers. Alaric Illéa might have been Trey's first crush (they'd had a lot of celebrity crushes). While the Raina that had been shown on TV had looked hopeful and excited, the girl before her now seemed worried and a bit let down. The downtrodden set of her face made Cheryl so sad herself that she took a final sip of her smoothie before she made her way across the room to her.

"Hi!" she beamed cheerfully.

Raina hesitated, as though she had no clue why this bright and bubbly girl was standing before her. "Uh, hi," she responded, a tentative smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Cheryl held her hand out. "I'm Cheryl," she offered, "but you can call me Cher. Or Cherry—my best friend, Trey, came up with that one. Or Cheryl, really. I answer to about anything. When I introduced myself to Nolan, I made this awful joke about not being able to eat too many cherries, but he was nice about it. Lea actually laughed, so that was good, and now I'm talking too much."

Raina gave a small laugh. "I don't have too many nicknames," she admitted, "I mean, my brother gives just about everything that moves a nickname, so those don't really count, but my friend, Finn, calls me dragă sometimes, which is probably something mean in Romanian."

"It sounds like dragon," Cheryl remarked.

"I know!" Raina agreed with a giggle. It seemed like the girl had been just waiting all day for someone to talk to her, and Cheryl decided in that moment that she and Raina were going to be friends.

"Why can't you eat too many cherries?" Raina added, obviously completely unaware of the friendship pact that Cheryl had just created in her head.

"Oh." She pulled her insulin pump from the pocket of her dress. "Diabetic."

"Oh," Raina echoed, looking surprised. "Are you okay?"

Cheryl waved a hand as she dropped the pump back into the pocket of her skirt. "Yep. I've had a lifetime to adjust." She didn't want to linger on the situation, since it wasn't usually what she liked for people to focus on when they first met her, so she asked, "How did your meeting with Nolan go?"

Raina's face blanched. "It wasn't the best."

In some ways, Cheryl wasn't necessarily surprised. A very complicated history existed between the Schreaves and Illéas. "I'm sure it was better than you thought," she offered encouragingly, "At least you're still here. He sent some girls home immediately."

Raina chewed her lip, like she was convinced that she would be joining the ranks of the departed soon. "Lighten up," Cheryl ordered, "Come on. Let's go make some friends." The other girl's eyes widened, but before she could protest, Cheryl had dragged her towards another group of girls.

They all paused at the new arrivals. Cheryl recognized one as a model that she'd seen before, but she hadn't gotten a chance to talk to the two others yet. "Hi!" she smiled. "I'm Cheryl, and this is Raina." Beside her, Raina gave a meek wave.

The model—a tall, gorgeous girl of New Asian descent—raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Raina Illéa?" Her voice wasn't unkind but certainly held a note of curiosity.

"And Cheryl Amerson," Cheryl interjected, trying to divert some of the attention from Raina's family.

Another girl in the group—also of New Asian descent but seated in a wheel chair instead of towering in heels like the model—took note of this and smiled before she added, "Haven Arita."

The other girl in the group had long, dark hair and a calculating face. She still seemed focused on Raina, even as she introduced herself as Rhiannon Thatcher, prompting the model, Persephone Chang, to do the same. "How did your meeting with Nolan go?" Rhiannon asked, her lips curving in an amused smirk as though she suspected it wasn't the best.

Raina blushed. "Uh…"

Haven, however, rolled her eyes. "Probably as awkward as any of ours," she declared, "I'm sure there weren't fireworks flying in yours either, Rhiannon."

Rhiannon gave a shrug of her shoulders. "It went well enough that I'm still here, clearly."

"And so is Raina," noted Haven, "so clearly the Illéa thing isn't an issue."

"Yet," amended Rhiannon. She smiled slyly again before she excused herself. While Persephone didn't linger on the topic of Raina, she excused herself a moment later as well.

Raina frowned. "That tends to be how meeting new people goes for me," she explained to Cheryl and Haven. She forced a brave smile. "But please don't feel obligated to hang out with me. If you wanted to go talk to people, or something—"

"I am talking to someone," countered Haven, " _You_. And you haven't scared me off yet, so, so far so good." She gave a sly smile. "Besides, you're far more interesting than some of the airheads I've spoken to so far."

The tense set of Raina's shoulders relaxed, and Cheryl smiled, already pulling Haven into their little friend group in her mind. She couldn't wait to call Trey and tell him about the girls. "Guys!" she grinned excitedly, "This is going to be so much fun!"

"Why do I get the feeling she's a hugger?" sighed Haven only seconds before Cheryl pulled Raina to her side and knelt to bring Haven into the fold as well. "Oh—there it is." But as much as the girl protested, she didn't look disappointed. Raina, for her part, smiled more widely than Cheryl had seen yet.

Even without Nolan, the day would have been worth just because of her new friends.


	7. 116 Days Before

**Author's Note:** This chapter is long af and made me realize I love terrible foreshadowing. Enjoy. And as always, thank you for the support. It definitely helps on days where my writing and I are not friends.

* * *

Chapter Six: 116 Days Before

Nolan rolled over, bumping into a body. "Watch it," a groggy voice groaned.

"Sorry," the prince sighed, rolling to his other side.

"Ow, Nolan, you're on my hair," complained someone else. Stressed, Nolan rolled onto his back, his arms pressed tightly to his sides because they'd had the brilliant idea of trying to squeeze five people into Calli's bed.

Their current sardine situation was all because of a silly tradition. Of the group that had grown up in the palace, Orlando and Calli were the only two who had ever left to attend school, both educated at the prestigious and exclusive Kensington Academy in Angeles. To the royal children, whose lessons were more flexible and less time restrictive, it had been like the two were being prescribed to some horrible punishment. So, the night before their friends' first day of school, they had always piled together for one last sleepover.

As they got older and many of them reached six feet tall, it was a little difficult to fit five people in one bed. However, with Calli's first day of work looming ahead—similar enough to the confines of school—they'd decided to give it their best effort once more.

But unfortunately, Nolan found that he was terribly uncomfortable. He'd somehow managed to fall asleep, but the staying asleep part had been the challenge. He heaved another sigh. "Is anyone actually sleeping?" he inquired.

An annoyed, sleepy chorus answered: " _Yes_."

He exhaled deeply once more and tried to close his eyes. It felt a little useless. He'd spent the last half hour tossing and turning—as much as he could when squished between Bayer and Calli—and it didn't seem likely that he'd be able to fall back asleep anytime soon. He was about to resign himself to counting sheep or just staring at the blackness of his closed eyes when he heard the most beautiful sound he could've imagined: the alarm.

A collective groan sounded from everyone else as Nolan sat straight up. "This is definitely not as easy as when we were kids," he remarked. He leaned over Bayer to turn the light on Calli's nightstand on and frowned. "Bayer!" he complained, "You have so much room!"

His cousin smirked. "Sure did," he sighed, "I slept wonderfully."

Calli giggled as she dragged herself out of bed. "You know, we might be getting a little too old for this," she noted.

Orlando sat up, pulled his silk eye mask off and flung it at Calli. "Shut your blasphemous mouth."

"I'm with Calli," Bayer countered.

Nolan was glad he and Lea were squeezed between Bayer and Orlando, because the latter gave a dramatic roll of his eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry, Your Highness, does it really kill you that much to leave your den of iniquity?" If ever there were scandalous things occurring in the palace, there was a good chance Bayer's room was the source.

"Stop by and see some time, Orly," taunted Bayer.

"Okay, children," Lea chided as she hopped out of Calli's bed and crossed to the couch where Alex had set up for the night. Since he'd joined their group at thirteen, he'd been invited to their sleepovers, but he'd always declined to squeeze into bed with them in case Oliver decided to make a surprise appearance. Lea fell on top of him, and he wrapped his arms around her, planting a kiss on the top of her head that made Lea smile in the special way that only Alex ever seemed able to trigger.

Nolan wondered if he'd ever be close enough with any of the Selected to cuddle on a couch with them or to have special smiles. Right now, it seemed like an impossibility.

Bayer yawned. "Do we _have_ to go to breakfast with all of the Selected?" he asked Nolan. "It's so early."

"It's at nine o'clock," protested Nolan, "You could literally take a nap between now and then."

"Not in these beds," Bayer complained as he grabbed another pillow to place beneath the three he was already using. "Are all of the Selected sleeping on these? Calli, why aren't you just staying in your normal room?"

Calli emerged from the bathroom dressed in a pair of fitted trousers and a blouse. "Because I am a lady of the Selection," she reminded Bayer, "And I don't want to make it worse. Everyone already thinks Dad and Oliver planned my being here."

"A lady." Bayer began to laugh, but the sound died quickly when he had to duck the hairbrush that Calli threw at him.

A laugh sounded from the doorway, alerting them to a smirking Kingsley, already dressed in his casual fatigues. "Careful, Bayer," he instructed as he leaned against the frame, "She's been in prime form lately. She already managed to scare off some new lieutenants at Pacifica."

Calli repressed a smile. "They deserved it," was all she offered.

Nolan's stomach did an uncomfortable flip flop. "I wish you weren't going to be gone on the first real day of the Selection," he sighed.

Calli's smile took on an apologetic tone. "You'll be fine," she assured him, "Just stick with the girls you were planning on seeing today. I don't think any of them are particularly suspicious."

"Have you _already_ been doing reconnaissance?" snorted Kingsley.

Calli winked. "You know it. And I already have a list of girls that require further investigation. But that's this weekend's work."

"You are possibly the most non-stop person I know," Orlando remarked, "Just you talking about work makes me tired sometimes."

Calli stepped into a pair of heels and did a quick spin. "What do you guys think?" she asked. Her face held a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

"Perfect!" Lea assured her.

"I'd tap that," Bayer offered.

Calli rolled her eyes, long used to Bayer's inappropriate comments. "And on that note, we're out of here. Come on, Kingsley."

Kingsley let Calli lead the way out of the room and paused to call, "Good luck today, Nol. Let me know how it all goes." Nolan promised his cousin he would, and the room fell into silence when Kingsley pulled the door shut behind him.

"So, about breakfast again…"

Nolan crawled over Bayer to escape the bed, making sure to elbow him pointedly. "Nine o'clock," he reminded him, "and yes, you have to be there."

"Where are you going?" Alex asked.

"I'm gonna take Pip for a walk," answered Nolan, though he failed to add that it would also be serving as his first date. He didn't want his friends to make a big deal out of it, and they weren't exactly known for their subtlety.

After he'd returned to his room to shower and collect Pip, he doubled back to the Selected's floor, his nerves relatively calm. He'd planned the date strategically. It was barely seven AM, and he figured that most of the Selected would still be asleep. If the girl he was in search of wasn't awake, he could leave a message with her maid so that it seemed like he was making an effort, and then take Pip on a solitary walk. It was a perfect plan, in his opinion.

When he knocked on the door, the girl's maid seemed surprised to see him. "Hello," Nolan greeted her, "Is Lady Jay awake, by chance?"

The maid curtsied deeply. "Of course, Your Highness," she assured him, "Just one moment."

Nolan's smile disappeared. "Wait, what?" But the maid had already disappeared, and a moment later, Lady Jay stood before him, already dressed in a pastel blue dress with her long, blonde hair pulled into a messy ponytail.

"Your Highness!" She tried to curtsey—some girls were still getting the hang of it—but when she noticed Pip, she fell to her knees. "Who is this guy?" she asked as she scratched Pip's ears. Pip, who was a sucker for any kind of attention, wagged his tail so hard that it hit Nolan in the leg several times.

 _You can do this_ , he assured himself, _it's just one person. Just pretend she's any other royal guest._ "This is Pip," explained Nolan, "We were about to take a walk, and I thought you might be missing your partner, so I was wondering if you'd like to come?"

Jay's smile widened as she momentarily pulled her attention away from Pip. "That's really nice of you. I'd love to."

They made their way to the gardens in silence, and when Nolan bent down to remove Pip's leash, he realized that he was going to need to say something soon. He desperately racked his brain for some kind of conversation starter, but he was relieved when he stood up and Jay asked, "Pip was your dad's dog, right?"

He nodded before he realized it was a strange thing for her to know about him. Jay seemed to realize this too, as she laughed at herself and explained, "My sister read a lot of tabloids when we were younger. I think there was an article on palace pets once. Does Princess Lea still have her goat?"

"Oh," Nolan sighed in relief. At least she wasn't a stalker. "No," he answered, "Lea's goat went to a farm where it had plenty of room to run when we were twelve."

Jay nodded sympathetically. "How old's Pip?" she asked.

Nolan hesitated, as he normally did when people mentioned his dog's age. "Twenty-three," he admitted, "but he goes to the vet every six months, and basically, he's going to live forever. Or at least until they figure out cloning, and then I'll have him cloned."

She laughed. "I feel the same way about Animo."

"What's he like?" Nolan asked. "I've never met a k9 officer."

"He's the best dog-fficer ever," beamed Jay. "He's kind of a dope when we're off duty, but he always works so hard, and you can tell that he just wants to do his job well."

"I like people like that," Nolan noted, "Or… dogs like that? I don't know. I think we'd get along."

"I hope you would," Jay remarked, "I take Animo's opinions of people pretty seriously."

"Pip likes everyone," Nolan admitted as they watched his old dog chase a butterfly, "so he's not as helpful in that respect."

Jay laughed. "Guess we can't all be as re-paw-nsible as Animo," she declared.

Nolan snorted. "Oh, wow. A pun?"

"Couldn't help myself," she snickered.

"So, you like puns, and you have an awesome partner," concluded Nolan, "Tell me something else about yourself."

"That sums me up pretty completely," countered Jay, "so you're gonna have to be more specific."

Nolan tried to think of something interesting and found inspiration when he noticed a little spot on her right wrist. "What's your tattoo?" he asked.

The laid-back smile that she'd worn until that point stiffened, as though she was forcing herself not to let it slip into a frown. "It's the yang of a yin yang symbol," she explained as she held it up for him to see better.

"Who has the yin?" he wondered.

Jay pulled her wrist away. "Uh, my sister," she answered tightly.

Nolan inspected her face. It was difficult to determine what she was feeling, so he asked, "You aren't close?"

"We were," was all she said.

He wasn't sure how to respond, as he was incredibly close with his own sister, so he decided to change the subject. "Alex and Lea have a tattoo," he noted.

"Yeah?" Jay asked, clearly glad for the attention to be off her for the moment. "I've never noticed it in pictures."

"You wouldn't," Nolan admitted, "It's on her ribs, and Alex's is on his chest. They have a green light bulb, like in _The Great Gatsby_. They're a little obsessed with Fitzgerald. Apparently, it represents the thing that you want the most or this idea of what your life could be like, so the point is they're each other's green light."

Jay seemed to mull over his words. "That's really sweet," she finally concluded with a small, almost wistful smile. Before they could lapse into a silence, she declared, "Your turn. Tell me something about Nolan."

His least favorite question. "Any specific inquiry?"

"Let's keep it easy: what's your favorite movie?" she asked.

He hesitated. It was such a simple question but still one that made him uncomfortable. Truthfully, his favorite movie was _Roman Holiday_. He supposed he related to Audrey Hepburn's constricted princess and idolized the relationship between her and Gregory Peck's character. In a way, it was his highest aspiration for his life. The Selection might not leave him with the love of his life, but he'd marry someone regardless, because that was his job, just like Audrey Hepburn had said goodbye to Gregory Peck because it was her job to be a princess. But if he found something even as briefly beautiful as Audrey and Gregory did, that would be enough for him.

"Loaded question?" Jay asked, and he realized just how long he'd taken to reflect.

Nolan laughed. "Sorry, just thinking," he countered, " _Saving Private Ryan_ though."

Jay rolled her eyes. "Boys and war movies."

"What's yours?" he challenged.

She paused. "It's silly," she admitted, "but I kind of love _Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs 2_."

"That… sounds ridiculous," Nolan chuckled.

"It is," she confessed, "but it has so many good food puns that I can't resist!" She paused. "I don't usually tell people that though, because yeah, totally embarrassing."

It made him feel a little guilty that she'd confided her embarrassing favorite movie, but he didn't change his answer. Maybe someday he'd tell Jay about _Roman Holiday_ , but it certainly wouldn't be that day.

Luckily, at that moment, Pip did something particularly adorable, and Jay turned her attention to him. The pair meandered through the gardens a little longer, their conversation comfortably surface level, and Jay made him laugh a few more times. By the time they were saying goodbye in the entrance hall of the palace, Nolan felt a little triumphant about his first date, even if it was just a casual dog walk.

He had enough time to return Pip to his room, change into a more formal button-up shirt than the long-sleeve he'd worn outside with Jay, and make it to the dining room right on time for breakfast.

They'd be eating in the formal dining room for the duration of the Selection, as it was big enough to occupy a long, rectangular table for the Selected, and a separate table for the royal family. Before he took his seat next to Lea, he gave his mom a kiss on the cheek and noticed with a frown that his father wasn't present. "Where's Dad?" he asked in a low voice.

A flash of concern momentarily altered Mae's smiling face. "Sleeping," she answered quietly, "He had a late conference call."

"Again?" frowned Nolan. It seemed that his father was operating on a nearly nocturnal schedule as of late.

Mae nodded, though she didn't elaborate. "How was your walk?" she asked excitedly.

It seemed like a distraction to Nolan, but he shrugged in response nonetheless. "It was fine," he admitted. "But is Dad—"

The door opened, and General Gauge and Xander Seymour walked into the room in deep conversation with each other. Mae's brow furrowed as she watched them approach. "We'll talk about it later, Nolan, okay?"

He frowned, feeling as though there was too much going on in the palace that he was being excluded from, but nodded. Mae turned a dazzling smile to the Selected. "Good morning," she greeted them, "I hope you all had a good first night with us."

Nolan was reminded of the sheer number of girls as a discord of 'yes's broke out as they tried to respond to the queen all at once. Mae smiled kindly, as though she was remembering what it was like to be in their shoes. The girls lapsed into silence, a few sending glances at the royal family's table. "Please, don't let us keep you from conversing or eating," Mae assured them, "I want you all to feel comfortable here with us."

It didn't immediately cause a flurry of conversation to break out, but a few girls turned to those around them. Lea looked to her brother, and he was surprised to find that she was glaring at him. "Why didn't you tell me you were going on a date?" complained Lea.

"We just took Pip for a walk," he protested.

"Still though," frowned Lea.

"Lee, you can't come on all my dates," he snorted. "I'm nervous enough without my weirdo sister breathing down my neck." This seemed to be the wrong response because Lea's eyes narrowed, and she turned to talk to Alex instead.

Before he had enough time to feel awkward—as Lea and his mother, the people on either side of him, were deep in conversation with others—the doors opened once more to reveal Bayer, who Nolan hadn't even realized was absent. His cousin held his hands up as he approached the table. "Before you start, I'm here, aren't I?"

He sighed. "I suppose."

While Bayer usually sat between his father and Orlando, he was used as a divider between his parents when Everly was at the palace. "By the way," he noted as he fell into the seat, "I invited Lavinia to your birthday party."

The mention of the twin's upcoming birthday seemed to capture the attention of the Selected, and Nolan felt a few more eyes on them as he tried not to groan. "Ah, so Thot One gets the invite this time," Orlando declared, clearly amused.

Bayer glared. "How many times do I have to tell you that calling them Thot One and Thot Two isn't funny?"

Beside him, his mother looked confused. "Darling, why do you have two girlfriends anyway…?"

"Why are we judging my life decisions?" snapped Bayer.

Nolan pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's fine if you bring Lavinia," he sighed, "Just don't invite Genna as well, because we all saw how that ended last time."

Mae cringed. "Yes, I would love for this party to go off without a girl being shoved into the cake again."

"So, Nolan has like twenty-something girlfriends, and I'm the bad guy here?" he scoffed. "Unbelievable."

Lea rolled her eyes and giggled. "You're a narcissistic pig."

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree," Everly noted with a glare at her ex-husband.

Elijah sighed. "Got something to say, Ev?"

"Just that maybe if you paid more attention to our son while he lived with you he wouldn't be juggling a wheel of women—"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Elijah snapped, "I didn't realize you didn't get your fill of fun-sucking during our marriage and felt the need to transfer it to our son—"

Mae, torn from her conversation with Gauge and seeing the panic in her son's eyes as all the Selected were focused on the royal table now, laughed pointedly to interrupt the bickering. "As much as I love these family get togethers, I just would like to remind everyone that we have guests."

They turned to the Selected, who wore varying looks of surprised, amused, and a little uneasy. Nolan wanted to sink beneath the table and hide. Leave it to his embarrassing, dysfunctional family to start the Selection off with a bang.

Lea didn't seem discouraged by the awkward moment though and instead turned to the girls. "I love your dress, Lady Margo," she beamed at the fashion magazine editor.

Margo blushed, the first to be directly addressed by a member of the royal family. "Thank you so much, Your Highness," she smiled shyly, "The maids here are _incredible_."

"They are," Lea nodded. She paused before she added, "I have a fitting for my dress for our birthday party this afternoon. Would you like to join me? I always welcome another good pair of eyes." She affectionately patted her boyfriend's shoulder. "Alex is hopeless."

It wasn't a date with the prince, but an invitation from the princess was certainly the second best, and Margo's face lit up. "Of course!"

While he appreciated his sister taking an effort in the Selected, Nolan did feel a little more pressured as breakfast dragged on. He had planned to ask someone else to spend some time with him that afternoon, but he dreaded asking in front of everyone.

There were a few times that he glanced at the Selected and considered starting up conversations with them, but it was intimidating given how many of them were left. A few times, he saw Raina try to catch his eye and that motivated him to focus his attention firmly on his food. He was still embarrassed about their meeting the previous day and wondered if she'd told the other girls what had happened. When he'd told Orlando about the situation—carefully concealing how expertly Raina had talked him down—his friend had pointed out that could send her home if it bothered him that much. But that didn't seem like much of a solution to Nolan, so for the moment, as childish as it was, he had decided to stick with avoiding her.

He spent most of the meal in silence, steeling himself, but when the Selected started to rise, he pushed the lightheaded nervousness out of the way and called, "Lady Isadora?"

Isadora, who was still eating, paused and looked in Nolan's direction. "Would you meet me in the first-floor library after breakfast?" he asked, fighting to keep his words calm and even.

After a moment's pause, Isadora nodded. Nolan exhaled and returned to his pancakes, feeling slightly more relaxed—at least until he saw the disappointment on the faces of the other girls. He made a note to ask his father how he'd handled juggling so many people's emotions, because currently, it seemed impossible.

Isadora finished and left before him, but Nolan joined her in the library shortly after. She stood at one of the windows, examining the grounds. She was dressed in a top decorated with roses and a pale pink skirt, and her golden blonde hair hung in elegant curls. She was naturally tall, at least Lea's height if Nolan had to guess, and he was somewhat glad she was dressed in flats instead of heels, as they easily would've made her equal with him, If not taller.

He cleared his throat to capture her attention when he walked in, and she turned to give him a bright smile and an expert curtsy. Nolan wasn't quite sure where to start, so he just dived in. "Your letter was… intriguing," he admitted.

Isadora simply continued to smile.

Nolan wondered if she was upset that he hadn't sought her out yesterday, so he added, "I'm sorry I wasn't able to speak with you after the meetings yesterday. There was… a lot going on."

She shook her head, in a manner that suggested that he shouldn't worry about it. He gave her a peculiar look as he realized she hadn't spoken to him yet. "Not very talkative, huh?" he asked.

For the first time since he'd seen her, Isadora's face faltered. She paused and glanced around the library before her face lit up. She held out a hand, as though instructing him to wait and disappeared into the stacks. Nolan waited for a minute before he followed her. "Uh, are you looking for something?"

Isadora nodded.

"Can I help you?" Nolan frowned.

This time, she shook her head and continued to scan the shelves herself. "Uh… well, they're arranged alphabetically and by genre, if that helps," he offered weakly.

She searched in silence for a few more minutes before her face lit up. She grabbed an old looking book from the shelf and flipped through it before she held it out to Nolan.

He recognized it as a collection of fairytales by Hans Christian Andersen and one of Lea's childhood obsessions. The story that Isadora had opened to was _The Little Mermaid._ He'd read it before at his sister's insistence, seen the Disney movie, and did enjoy the musical, but he was a little perplexed about why Isadora had wanted to show it to him. She seemed to pick up on the confusion on his face and took the book back to skim through the story.

She pointed out a passage, one in which the Sea Witch was describing how the Little Mermaid would have to trade her tongue and ability to speak for her human legs. "You… don't have a tongue?" Nolan frowned.

Isadora laughed and stuck her tongue out at him, and he flushed at his mistake. "Oh, sorry," he mumbled, "Uh, so…"

She pointed to her throat instead, and Nolan understood. "You can't speak?"

Her face was a mixture of resignation and accomplishment as she nodded in confirmation. It was an interesting situation, one that Nolan hadn't anticipated, and when he thought about it, it made him feel a little more relaxed around Isadora. For one, she couldn't voice any uncomfortable judgments about him. Additionally, if he told her anything personal, he wouldn't have to worry about her running off and sharing it with all the other girls. It made their conversations seem more private, and he certainly liked that.

"Okay," he nodded, "That's fine. Uh, I don't know sign language, but my dad does, and I'm sure we could get a translator—"

Isadora shrugged her shoulders, as if to suggest that she didn't know sign language either. "Oh. You don't…?" She shook her head.

"Alright," nodded Nolan, a little glad that they wouldn't have to bring in someone to help them communicate. "Well, we can talk like this," he offered, as she had little trouble getting her points across with her gestures and expressions, "and however else is easy for you."

She considered it for a second before she dashed off again, this time to one of the desks in the library. She grabbed a pen and scrawled another message in her elegant, girly handwriting. _We can write_.

Nolan smiled down at the paper before he took the pen from her. _Okay_ , he agreed in his usual careful, small letters.

He was about to offer to escort her back to the Women's Room where the rest of the girls were, but she took the pen one more time. _You can call me Izzy_ , she added.

"Izzy," he tried aloud, and she nodded excitedly. "I like that." He held his arm out to her, and Izzy took it without hesitation.

For his first real day getting to know the girls, Nolan wasn't too upset with how things had gone.

* * *

Truthfully, Calli had thought a lot about what her first day at Pacifica would be like. She imagined breezing into the Seymour Enterprises office, getting her first assignment, and taking the engineering world by storm. She'd searched for the perfect outfit to assert her authority but retain her femininity. She'd packed a balanced lunch to keep her fueled. She thought out responses to any possible insults or implications that her father had obtained her position for her.

In reality, the day was a lot less eventful than she'd anticipated. Her boss had been understanding about the fact that she'd be working two days a week for the duration of her involvement in the Selection, and as a result, her workload was a little lighter than she'd liked. Since she was only part time, she wouldn't be put on an experiment or project just quite yet, since they were more involved. There were no insults or questions from any of her coworkers—which she appreciated—but she found that they weren't the friendliest, most talkative bunch either. They were certainly focused on their work, and aside from basic instructions about the office, she didn't speak with them much.

She'd insisted that she could work two twelve hour days, but no one seemed to believe this until they were clocking out, and she was still pouring over the experiment results she'd been instructed to review for the week. They weren't the most intriguing, but she took dutiful notes, making sure to mark things that seemed questionable or flawed to her. It was, admittedly, exciting to see some of the work that Seymour Enterprises was involved with. Her reading definitely got the gears turning in her head, thinking about improvements or innovations that they might be able to make going forward.

While she wouldn't complain about it, she was a little exhausted when she finally paused to look at the clock. She'd intended to leave by eight but was surprised that it was closer to nine. There were still a few pages left for her to read, but she collected the reports and slid them into her purse. She grabbed her cell phone to see if the car that Nolan had promised to send for her had arrived at the docks and noticed that she had a few text messages. Some were from Nolan and Lea, one from Kingsley inviting her to lunch—oops—but the last was from her father, wishing her a good first day. It made her smile, considering he had yet to concede in their Cold War over her new job.

Since the ferry wouldn't arrive for another half hour and she'd missed dinner at the palace, she decided to grab some food before she left base. In contrast to the healthy meal that she'd eaten for lunch—carefully formulated to keep her focused and energized—she was desperately craving pizza and almost felt emotional when she saw that the tavern that served her favorite pizza was open.

The restaurant was crowded with people in their fatigues, fresh off from work, but also some in civilian clothes, the lucky ones that had the day off or hadn't worked as late. After she'd grabbed a plain slice of cheese pizza and a soda, she made her way to a small table in the corner, giving brief waves to people that she recognized but not stopping to talk. She started to work through the messages on her phone as she absentmindedly munched on the pizza.

Only a few minutes passed before an excited voice called, "Gauge!"

It was the wrong thing to yell in a tavern of off-duty soldiers, as nearly everyone jumped to attention. Ryder Illéa looked amused by his mistake and apologetically offered, "Wrong Gauge. At ease, everyone!" Calli rolled her eyes as he made his way through the throng towards her, falling into the seat across from her without waiting for invitation.

He was dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, a mug of beer clutched in one of his hands. "Day off?" Calli guessed.

"Tomorrow is," he answered, "I got off hours ago, though."

"Lucky," she noted as she picked up her pizza and glanced back down at her phone—anything to distract her from the way his shirt clung to his well-defined chest, if she was being honest.

"How was day one?" he asked energetically. "Finn heard from Mack, who heard from Kingsley, that you started today."

It amused her that he'd gone through the trouble of asking about her through such a chain of people. "It was long," she answered, "I got there around seven-thirty and just left."

Ryder whistled. "Is a complete inability to relax a Gauge family trait?" he asked.

Calli smirked. "Might be," she admitted.

"We should work on that," Ryder remarked, "Stress leads to things like high blood pressure and wrinkles."

"Anything but wrinkles," droned Calli sardonically. "How will I ever survive not being beautiful in a world as shallow as ours?"

If he was put off by her snarky response, Ryder didn't miss a beat. "I just think it would be a shame, because they'd be framing the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen."

She almost dropped her cell phone. She took the slightest millisecond to regain her composure before she cocked an eyebrow and snorted, "Are you flirting with me, Illéa?"

"Testing the waters," he admitted, "How'd it go?"

"I'd urge you to get back on the beach," Calli laughed. "I'm in the Selection, remember?"

It clearly wasn't enough discouragement, because Ryder's face lit up. "So, if you weren't in the Selection—"

She held up a finger. "I didn't say that."

"I saw the implication."

She rolled her eyes. "How do people put up with you?"

"You'd have to ask my Popsicle or Rainy," he shrugged. "But my guess is unnatural amounts of patience and maybe some bourbon on occasion."

Calli tried to ignore the urge to smile. "I'll have to have her teach me her ways at breakfast tomorrow morning," she noted, "since I can't seem to avoid you."

Though she wouldn't have thought it possible, his face became more excited. "I completely forgot you and Raina are basically living together right now."

Calli nodded. "Her room is two down from mine."

"How's she doing?" Ryder asked. His face hardened before he added, "People tend to be jerks about the Illéa thing."

Maybe it was his concern for his sister or the way that he turned an adorable pair of puppy dog eyes on her or the fact that she was exhausted, but she couldn't contain the smile this time. "She's doing fine," she assured him, "I think she's already made some friends. She seems worried about how her first meeting with Nolan went, but I don't think it's anything to stress about since he didn't send her home."

Ryder nodded, but it didn't look like he was convinced of his sister's contentment, so—for some reason that she couldn't quite determine—Calli offered, "I'll tell her to give you a call sometime this week. We get phone privileges, just like any other prisoners."

The tense set of his shoulders visibly relaxed, and the smile that he gave her was so vibrant that it crinkled the corners of his blue eyes and exposed his perfectly straight teeth. It really was unfair to be so attractive, she determined. "Good to know," he remarked. "Does that mean I'd be able to call you too?"

Calli finished her pizza as her brain rushed to think of a response. "I mean, you could just keep stalking me on base," she finally rejoined, "It looks like I can't come to Pacifica without running into you anymore."

Ryder grinned in a manner that told her he clearly wasn't upset by that. He glanced at her empty pizza plate and chewed his lip for a second before he boldly asked, "Hey, can I get you a drink?"

Calli paused, her eyes flitting between her cell phone—the ferry would be there in fifteen minutes—and the purse that held all the work she needed to finish before work on Tuesday. Ryder seemed to pick up on her hesitation and added, "There's a special on any beer on tap, if that sways you at all."

"Well, now you're not playing fair, Illéa," she lamented, "How can I say no to my favorite drink?"

"You would be a beer girl," he chuckled as he slid off his barstool.

"Why do I have a feeling that you prefer mixed drinks?" Calli smirked as she glanced at Ryder's barely touched mug of beer.

"You suffer through your disgusting fermented barley water," he declared, "I will continue to love myself and enjoy my mixed drinks."

They made their way towards a small opening at the bar, and the crowd around them caused them to take a step closer together. Ryder placed a hand on the small of her back, and whether it was a casual gesture or an attempt to stop people from bumping into her, Calli found that she didn't altogether mind it. She took a second to inspect the tavern as Ryder ordered her drink, and as they waited for the bartender to deliver it, she asked, "Where's your wingman?"

There was a short laugh. "You must mean Fifi."

"Fifi?" giggled Calli. " _That's_ Lieutenant Cojocaru's first name?"

"Unofficially," Ryder admitted. "Technically, people call him Finn. But this isn't really his scene. I tried to make him come out, but he's probably back in the barracks brooding or doing twenty-five million push-ups to maintain his hot bod." The bartender deposited her beer, and before Calli could grab her wallet, Ryder was pulling his from his back pocket.

She flushed as she dug through her bag. "Don't you dare."

"Oh, come on," countered Ryder, "Let me do a nice thing. I got to up my street cred around here."

"I can pay for my own drink," Calli retorted as she swiped through the bag, trying not to seem frantic.

Ryder held his hands up. "Believe me, I have no doubt about that," he assured her. His face lit up as he noticed something over Calli's left shoulder. "Why don't we play for it?" he offered. "You let me get this one, and then if you beat me, you can buy me another drink."

Calli followed his gaze to a dartboard. "Hand eye coordination isn't really my strong suit," she admitted.

Ryder pumped his arms into the air. "The lady has a fault!" he declared loudly, making Calli blush. "Good thing, too, because I was starting to think you were some Stepford android they genetically engineered in the palace, Gauge."

She rolled her eyes. "I wasn't even born at the palace," she countered, "so no way I could've been genetically engineered there."

"Oh, yeah?" Ryder asked as he casually dropped a five on the bar. "I thought you grew up there."

"My mom didn't really like it there," she explained, "My dad and I only moved in after…" She paused. It was rare that she discussed her mother with anyone, let alone a virtual stranger like Ryder. She turned to the dartboard, eager for a distraction. "So, are we doing this, Illéa?"

If he picked up on her abrupt change of subject, he didn't comment on it. Instead, he collected the darts and held one out to her. "Ladies first."

Although she really tried, she wasn't surprised when the dart hit the edge of the board and fell to the floor. Ryder, on the other hand, seemed to find it hilarious. "What was that?" he chortled as Calli crossed her arms and glared at him.

"I told you I was awful!" she protested.

"Here, watch." Ryder lined up to throw his dart at the board, and she wanted to roll her eyes when it landed right outside of the bullseye. She settled for calling him a show off and determinedly collecting her next dart.

The second try didn't go much better, and Ryder apparently decided that he couldn't let her embarrass herself because he stepped so close to her that Calli froze. One of his hands casually rested on her hip while the other cupped her hand that held the dart. "Just flail less," he instructed.

She tried to ignore the closeness of their bodies. "I don't _flail_ ," she countered. But she let Ryder guide her throwing hand. To her disappointment and his confusion, the dart still dropped to the ground.

He didn't step away. "Use a little more force this time," he instructed instead.

"What, now you're a teacher?" she smirked.

"Well, actually…"

Her eyebrows arched in surprise as she turned to glance at him. "Really? What grade?"

"Middle school," Ryder answered proudly, and it was clear from his voice just how much he loved his job.

"You gave that all up for the glamorous army life?" she asked. It was a bit of a surprise to hear that he'd had a career back in Likely. He was so carefree and laid back that she hadn't expected he'd been up to much before enlisting, if she was being honest.

"Something like that," chuckled Ryder. She had a feeling that he was holding back, like she had earlier when they'd broached the topic of her mom. But she didn't push it, instead turning her attention back to the dartboard. Ryder followed suit, and this time, when he guided her hand and she applied a little more pressure, the dart managed to sink itself into one of the outer circles of the board. It wasn't a great throw by any means, but she was still excited.

"Not a bad teacher," she remarked as she turned to glance at Ryder. He was so close that she could see the brighter rings of blue towards the pupil of his eyes and smell the cologne that wafted from his chest. He made no effort to put any distance between them, so she didn't either.

Until a hard voice wrenched her from their suspended moment. "Calliope."

She almost tripped in her hurry to get away from Ryder. "Dad!"

Once again, the pub—though Ryder was included this time—jumped to attention as silence fell over the room. Cooper made his way towards his daughter, not bothering to rest the soldiers. Although he stopped in front of her, the general shamelessly examined Ryder skeptically. "What are you doing here?" Calli asked, feeling uncomfortable with all of the attention directed at them.

Finally, Cooper glanced around. "As you were," he announced, and a slow hum started to build in the tavern as people dropped their salutes, though it was much quieter than it had been earlier. He turned to Calli and Ryder. "You missed your ferry," he informed Calli, "Oliver called when your car didn't make it back."

She wanted to kick herself. "I stopped for pizza and completely forgot."

"Pizza, huh?" Cooper asked skeptically. Calli and Ryder both flushed. "Come on, I'll take you back. It's already ten."

She turned to Ryder. "Uh… thanks for the drink and the darts," she offered, a little embarrassed that she was being collected by her father.

"Any time," Ryder shrugged, "See you Tuesday?"

"I don't doubt it, stalker," she smirked.

"Calli!"

A group of nearby soldiers flinched at the authority in the general's voice, and Calli rolled her eyes. "I better go before he sends an extraction team," she sighed. She gave him a final wave before she joined her father's side.

Once they were out of the bar, the frostiness between father and daughter was nearly tangible. "Do you feel better now that you've treated me like a child?" Calli demanded with a glare.

Cooper sighed. "Calliope, you need to be careful," he countered, "Friends or not, you're still a lady of Nolan's Selection."

"I _know_ , Dad," she snapped. "You don't have to lecture me."

"I'm just trying to look out for you," he sighed, sounding weary. "If anything happened to you…" He trailed off, clearly choked up. "You're all I have, Cal."

The reminder of what a team the two of the had been since her mother had left them all those years ago brought her anger down a few notches, and Calli managed a tentative smile. "Dad, you don't have to worry about me all the time," she pointed out, "I can take care of myself."

He sighed. "That scares me even more," countered Cooper, "What happened to the little girl that needed her dad?"

She beamed proudly. "She became a very capable young lady," she declared. She paused to hug her father. "But only because she had such an awesome dad. So, try to stress a little less, okay? I've heard it causes things like wrinkles and high blood pressure."

He chuckled and returned the embrace. "I think 'perma-stress' is actually part of my military contract, but I'll work on it," he promised.

"Good," she beamed, "And if you have to worry, don't waste it on me. Nothing's going to happen to me."

Cooper forced a smile and nodded briefly before he dropped an arm around her shoulders, and the two Gauges made their way to the waiting ferry. It would be a conversation that they would both reflect on in the months to come, particularly after a great deal had happened to Calliope Gauge.


	8. 114 Days Before

**Author's Note:** This chapter and I had some issues. It's very narrow, but it includes a date that I love, and I promise more characters will be included in upcoming planned chapters. We're only week 2 of the Selection, so plenty of time. Mostly, there's a lot of subtle things to pay attention to this chapter that affect the rest of the story. I hope you like it even though I almost deleted it like 20 times haha. Thanks for everyone who reviewed last chapter, I appreciate you very much :D

* * *

Chapter Seven: 114 Days Before

The room was dark to help combat an incessant headache that he hadn't been able to shake for days, and Oliver leaned over his desk with his head in his hands. He wasn't sure what time it was—time had been irrelevant to the constant work that he'd been faced with lately—but he was tired, as always.

The door to his study wiggled, as though someone had tried to open it. He'd locked it after he'd received the phone call, not ready to speak to anyone. "Oliver?"

His wife. He sighed and ran his hands over his face, wiping away the dampness from his eyes and hopefully some of the exhaustion. "Sorry, Mae," he called, "One second." He stood and paused only long enough to grab an aspirin before he crossed to open the door.

Mae looked rightfully perplexed when she stepped into study. "You locked the door?"

He nodded and returned to his desk. He pulled a random budget report from a stack of papers that he needed to review. His eyes scanned the words, but it was like they were written in a different language and not one of the six that he knew. Mae studied him, and for a moment, he wished she'd look away, because he knew if she looked just a little longer, she'd be able to tell that he wasn't actually reading.

She didn't look away though, and after a minute, she bent to her knees beside his chair, reaching for his hand. "Oliver," she said softly, and he closed his eyes when she reached for his hand. So much had changed in the last few months, but he still loved her as much as he had when he'd married her twenty-three years ago. She was the one person who never failed to know how to comfort him, and although he knew that he'd been keeping the extremity of the situation in Europe from her so she didn't worry, her presence made him want to unload everything.

"Talk to me," she urged him, her eyebrows knit together in concern. He knew it wasn't concern for the warring countries though. Mae's primary concern was and would always be her family. She was worried about him.

He could count on one hand the number of times he'd cried in front of his wife—not because he didn't trust her enough to but because life had been exceptionally kind to the Schreaves up to that point. His job was stressful and not necessarily what he might've chosen for himself, but he'd been blessed with an incredible marriage, great friends, and the best children anyone could ask for.

But now, a strangled sob choked him. Mae's frown deepened, and she leaned forward to pull his head to her chest, a comforting hand rubbing reassuring circles on his broad back. Oliver wrapped his arms around her waist, trying to ground himself with her presence.

She didn't push him, instead letting him take as much time as he needed to compose himself. Finally, he swallowed deeply. "The Russian army is moving through the German Federation at a startling pace," he informed his wife. "Chancellor Rosamunde has requested asylum in France."

"Will Annalise grant it?" Mae asked, in reference to Oliver's cousin and Everly's older sister, the queen of France.

"She's going to tomorrow," Oliver explained. "They've been fortifying the Maginot line for months and strengthening their defenses."

Mae frowned. "The Maginot line didn't work in World War II."

"Annalise claims they've learned from that mistake, but I'm sure that Marid and Nikolai have to," Oliver sighed. He leaned on one of his hands. "They expect Russia to declare on them when they extradite the chancellor, and if they don't, Annalise says they'll declare if the Russians make it as far as Frankfurt."

"That puts us in a very precarious situation," Mae remarked. Because of their familial ties, France was one of their closest allies.

That was something he was certainly aware of. He had a feeling that his country would expect him to come to the aid of their French allies, but he wasn't ready to do so. "I know," he sighed, "Raphael and I have been begging Annalise to reconsider all week."

"And abandon the German Federation?" Mae frowned.

"Of course not," sighed Oliver. He paused before he added, "I don't know. Maybe." He knew that it was a cowardly stance to take, but he couldn't help it. He stared at his hands, unable to meet his wife's gaze. "I don't want to see millions of Illéan's die for Nikolai's war."

"You're not going to avoid that by doing nothing," Mae pointed out.

The king frowned. "I know."

"Oliver, why don't you reach out to Nikolai? You can still try to fix this," his wife declared. "If you gather enough rulers, you can force him to meet with you. He can't fight the whole world."

"He can certainly try," frowned Oliver.

"So can you," Mae countered. "Call Annalise and suggest this before she throws her whole country into war. Call Mosi, call Raphael, Brittania, Iberia. No one _wants_ to fight."

He mulled her words over for a long minute before he frowned, "What if it doesn't work?"

"Try first," Mae insisted, "If it doesn't… we'll think of something then. But this has to be better than hiding and deserting allies that would have defended us if the situations were reversed."

"They wouldn't be reversed," grumbled Oliver, " _I_ know better than to mess with Nikolai and Marid. It's everyone else who's forgotten."

"Oliver, I love you," Mae began, "but I think that's easier to say when we're on a different continent. We don't have them directly pushing at our borders."

He groaned and leaned back in his seat. "You're right," he realized with a frown. "Guess I have a few million more calls to make."

"Why don't you take a break first?" his wife suggested. "I'll have lunch sent up for us, and you can try to relax for a minute. Besides, Alex has requested an audience."

"With me?" frowned Oliver. His daughter's boyfriend usually did his best to avoid the king who enjoyed making him squirm at every opportunity. "What for?"

Mae shrugged. "With us," she corrected, "I offered to speak to him about whatever was bothering him, but he requested that we both be present."

"This is sure to be interesting," remarked Oliver. He hesitated as he considered an issue that had been brought to his attention by General Gauge a week ago. "Well, since we're taking audiences, there's one more thing. I want to meet with Ryder Illéa."

"Oh?" Mae raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Raina's brother?"

"The male Illéa heir," clarified Oliver, "the only person who could continue Marid's "legacy." And a newly minted second lieutenant at Pacifica who's taken an interest in Calli, from what Gauge has said."

"I didn't realize being friends with Illéas was a crime," noted Mae. She sounded suspicious and a little disapproving.

"It's not," Oliver assured her, briefly thinking back to all of the mistakes he'd made with Kaitlyn and Alaric. "But I can't pretend that the sudden influx of Illéas to Angeles isn't a little alarming. Raina seems quiet and nothing like Regan from what I've heard, but if Ryder is someone I need to worry about, I'd like to meet him for myself."

She paused. "I suppose there's no harm in just meeting him," allowed Mae cautiously, "but please don't go into this like he's a foreign enemy. He's only Kingsley's age and for all you know has never even spoken to Marid or Regan."

"Of course," Oliver promised his wife. He rubbed his tired eyes and considered the outline of the rest of his afternoon. "Alright. Lunch, coffee, Alexander Havilland, setting up a meeting with an Illéa and then nearly every leader of the free world. Piece of cake."

* * *

112 Days Before

Alex walked into Nolan's bedroom without knocking—as always—and threw himself onto Nolan's bed. "I'm dead," he declared, "I survived, but I'm dead."

Nolan, who was standing in front of his mirror trying to tame his wavy brown hair, cast a curious look at Alex. "Where have you been all day? It was quiet without you."

Alex groaned as he rolled onto his side to face Nolan. "I worked some overtime," he explained, "Ten hours of shots and physicals and colds. A few hypochondriacs too, they're always the fun ones." After he'd received his medical degree, Alex had started working with a doctor in the town outside of the palace. He usually only worked between thirty and forty hours at Lea's request so that he was free to spend his weekends and afternoons with everyone at the palace.

"Overtime?" Nolan inquired in amusement. "Got some big plans coming up?"

His friend flushed as he fell back onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. "I don't know," Alex mumbled noncommittally, "Lea's birthday's is soon."

"I realize. Because of the twin thing, it happens to be mine too," noted Nolan dryly. "But Al, you know Lea doesn't want or need anything extravagant." In a bit of a departure from the rest of their friend group, Alex was from a modest middle class background where his mother was a teacher, and his father worked in a bank. The only reason that Alex didn't have loans from medical school was because he'd applied for every scholarship in existence and had been qualified enough to receive many of them.

Alex laughed. "Easy to say when she has headbands that are worth more than my entire apartment."

"Yeah, and she likes that apartment more than all the crown jewels," retorted Nolan.

"It's still a little bit of pressure sometimes," admitted Alex. "Even if she weren't a princess, there are just things that she deserves and I want to be able to give her, you know?"

Nolan stared at his friend in the mirror. "This just isn't fair," he sighed, "How am I supposed to charm the Selected when you're going to be constantly showing me up in the boyfriend department?"

"I've had a lot of practice," Alex laughed, "Six years, in fact. You'll get there." He paused while he inspected Nolan's t-shirt and jeans, which were a little more casual than usual. "Are you going somewhere?"

Nolan squared his shoulders as he turned to Alex. "I'm going on a date," he declared, "Like an honest to goodness, out-of-the-palace date."

Alex's face lit up. "With who?"

"Murphy," answered Nolan. "I think I came up with a pretty good idea given her background."

"She's the cheerleader, right?"

"'Player support,'" corrected Nolan.

Alex's eyebrows furrowed. "What kind of football players are such wusses that they need support?"

Nolan shrugged. "Beats me." He tried to stamp his hair down one last time and turned to his friend. "How do I look?"

"Casual," answered Alex.

"Good," nodded Nolan. He tried not to frown as he added, "I saw a talk show last night where the anchors were discussing how I seemed 'uptight.'"

"To be fair," yawned Alex, "you _are_ uptight, Nolan."

He stiffened. "I know," he admitted, "but I don't want _other_ people to know that."

Alex chuckled as he pulled one of Nolan's pillows under his chin. "You know, step one in forming a really meaningful relationship is transparency," he announced. "How are you supposed to fall in love if you're trying to hide who you are?"

"It's strategic concealment," argued Nolan.

"Whatever you say, Nol."

Even though it was still late August, he grabbed a sweater just in case—he blamed his mother for drilling a need to be prepared for the weather into him—and made his way to the Selected's hall. It was quiet, though he was unsure if they spent most of their time in the Women's Room or their own bedrooms after dinner. The girls had access to most parts of the palace, save the royal family's floor, but he'd noticed that he didn't see them wandering around too often and had wondered if they were generally kept busy or simply discouraged from meandering. He didn't mind it, as the thought of running into girls randomly all day made his stomach flop uncomfortably.

Luckily, Murphy's room was close to the staircase, so he didn't have to risk running into too many girls. He wasn't avoiding them, per se—save one girl in particular, as he had yet to speak with Raina—but he didn't like being caught off guard either. She answered her door herself and was dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a plain white t-shirt, as he'd instructed. Her brown hair was loose and a mixture between wavy and messy, and he noticed a hair tie at her wrist as though she was just waiting to pull it up.

"Hi," he squeaked out.

Murphy's pixie-like face showed the tiniest smile. "Hi," she rejoined. "So, ready to go?"

Nolan nodded, but before she could pull the door of her bedroom shut behind her, he blurted out, "You might want to bring a coat."

Murphy paused. "What?"

Immediately, he wanted to turn around and go hide in his room. "Well, we're just going to be outside," he explained. "It might get… breezy."

She stared at him for a second before an amused smile lit up her face. "Sure, Mom," she agreed. She disappeared back into the room for a moment, during which Nolan silently berated himself, before she returned with a sweater slung over her arm. Nolan held his hand out for it automatically, and Murphy paused, as though she was surprised by his offer to carry it. "Oh… thanks."

Nolan, in turn, was perplexed by her confusion and didn't reply to her unnecessary thanks. His grandmother Eadlyn had always valued manners and niceties and had drilled etiquette into him since he was a child. They started for the entrance hall, and as they walked, Murphy asked, "So, where are we going?"

"Out," Nolan answered simply. He wasn't really one for surprises, but since this was his first more ambitious date and he'd planned it himself, he was a little excited and looking forward to seeing her reaction when they arrived. Murphy's eyebrows quirked at his response—though he wasn't sure if it was due to irritation or interest—but she didn't push him further.

They were met by two people in the entrance hall, and Nolan paused long enough to make the introductions. "Lady Murphy," he began, and she gave him a quizzical look, as though she'd forgotten the title she'd been assigned, "this is Captain Kaholo, although you can call him Jonathan, and Officer Jason Heathcliff. Jonathan is my guard, and Jason is Lea's, so they'll be accompanying us tonight."

Murphy shook both of their hands, and Jonathan, who was a veteran at tagging along on Selection dates thanks to Oliver, offered, "Just pretend we're not here."

Murphy looked amused as she examined the two men. "Pretend a pair of six foot plus beefcakes aren't here," she remarked, "Easy."

Nolan swallowed a laugh at her assessment of the guards and pulled his keys from his pocket as the four made their way outside to the medium sized, black SUV that was waiting for them. "You drive?" Murphy asked, sounding surprised when she saw Nolan make his way to the driver's side.

"Uh… yes?" Nolan replied, a little confused.

"I guess I just imagined you getting chauffeured around everywhere in a limo or something," admitted Murphy as she hopped into the passenger seat.

"Sometimes," admitted Nolan, "but I prefer to drive myself."

"Independent," noted Murphy, "I like it."

He tried to hide his blush, pretending to look for something in the glove compartment.

The ride was mostly silent, and it was much easier to forget Jonathan and Jason were crowded in the back than he had thought it would be. He and Murphy didn't talk much either, though she did occasionally try to guess where they were going, which amused Nolan.

When they pulled into the parking lot of Capitol Stadium, Murphy froze, her eyes wide, and Nolan smiled excitedly. Even though he'd spent time with Jay and Izzy and enjoyed both moments, this felt more like a real date, so he was glad that she looked amazed by the stadium.

His excitement did waver substantially though when he heard Murphy mutter under her breath, "You have _got_ to be kidding me."

Nolan frowned. "Pardon me?"

She tried to force a smile, though it looked more like a grimace. "Nothing," she countered, "So, this is a football stadium."

"Yep," confirmed Nolan, "The Lions have a primetime game against the Broncos tonight, so I thought it would be a cool thing to do, given your background."

Murphy's grimace persisted. "Those tickets are probably expensive," she noted.

Nolan shrugged. "It's not a problem," he assured her, "My Dad's a huge Lions fan, so they send him season tickets every year."

"We could probably sell them," suggested Murphy, "and then—I don't know, get a milkshake or something."

Although he was a little thrown off by the suggestion, Nolan laughed, because he wasn't sure how else to respond. "Uh, I'm pretty sure ticket scalping is illegal," he pointed out, "so how about no, and I'll forget you suggested that."

The parking lot was crowded, but Mae had called ahead to inform the stadium that Nolan would be in attendance that night, which meant that they were provided with extra security from the stadium, as well as a private entrance. Nolan reached out to gently guide Murphy towards the entrance that they usually used, but she flinched away at the feeling of his hand on her back, and his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Neither mentioned it, though they both took a step away from each other. Murphy lingered behind somewhat, as though she'd rather throw herself into the oncoming traffic than step foot in the stadium.

They were led to the box that was usually reserved for members of the royal family, and when they stepped inside, there was already a diverse spread of food and drinks. In addition to the usual stadium food, there were also well-known favorites of the royals, such as the macaroons that his mother loved or his father's preferred kind of pizza.

"This is…" Murphy glanced around. "Excessive."

Nolan frowned. "Uh… yeah, I guess," he admitted. "We don't ever ask for stuff like this, of course, but when we accept things that are offered, people tend to go all out."

Murphy fell into one of the leather seats. "I see that."

Nolan glanced over his shoulder at Jonathan and Jason. At this point, it felt like he'd have a more successful date if he sat in the back with them and left Murphy to herself in the front row. Jonathan saw the consideration on his face though and gave a single shake of his head. "Talk to her," he mouthed.

Nolan sighed and lowered himself into the seat next to Murphy. "So, what are the games at your school like?" he tried.

A line creased her forehead, making her look annoyed. "Loud," she decided, "Extra. Super unnecessary."

She wasn't giving him much to go on, and Nolan desperately searched the recesses of his mind as he tried to think of something to say. Luckily, Murphy added, "Cheerleading's not really the thing I would have picked if I had a choice."

"So, why do you do it?" asked Nolan, confused.

She shrugged. "Pays for college. Easier than working three jobs and getting about three hours of sleep like I did my first semester."

Great. Money problems. Yet another thing that Nolan couldn't relate to. He decided to try to move the conversation away from cheerleading and instead tried, "What do you study in school?"

"Political science," answered Murphy. There was a pause before she added, "I'm going to be a lawyer."

"Wow." Nolan was only a little surprised. She seemed like the type of person that would be able to hold her own in a court room. "Congratulations. That's definitely an accomplishment."

Murphy paused, like it wasn't the reaction she had expected but was one that she appreciated. "Thank you," she added after a moment. Her mouth twitched, like her initial reaction had been to smile but she'd brushed it away.

"Do you want anything?" Nolan asked as he gestured to the table of food that lined the side of the box. He noticed a beer that he didn't find horrible—Bayer had been trying to match him up with a signature drink for years—and decided to grab one, if only to make him feel less like he was bothering Murphy by existing at the moment.

She wrinkled her nose at his drink. "No, thank you."

He paused. "Uh… do you mind…? I don't need it or anything."

"No, knock yourself out," Murphy offered, "I just think beer is awful."

For a moment, he considered abandoning the drink for something else, but then he decided that even if Murphy seemed determined to have a terrible time, he wasn't going to. He used the edge of the table to pry the bottlecap off and held Murphy's gaze as he took a long drink from the bottle. He wasn't sure what her expression meant, but she didn't prescribe any more judgment so he turned back to the table. "Are you sure you don't want anything?" he asked, "We've got nachos, tea, pretzels, root beer…"

He trailed off, noticing the way her head swiveled in his direction when he offered the root beer. He held up one of the bottles, and Murphy considered him for a long second before she finally held her hand out. He handed it over and retook his seat. They sipped their drinks in silence before Murphy muttered, "Thank you."

It seemed like the first thing he'd done right that night, so Nolan relaxed slightly. "You're welcome."

The game announcer's voice blared through the speakers, and Nolan repressed a sigh as the announcer began to tell the stadium about a very special guest that was with them today. "I asked them not to do this," he assured Murphy, "but could you maybe smile and pretend that you're not having an awful time for a second?"

She looked confused by his request, but when one of the cameras that was suspended on a wire over the stadium appeared outside of their box, projecting their image onto the screens at either side of the end zones and causing the crowd to cheer excitedly, she complied with his request. She gave a smile so enormous that it scrunched up her eyes and made her look a little strange to Nolan, but he figured everyone else just assumed she was being peppy. For his part, he gave the reserved, close-mouthed smile he usually utilized in public and raised a hand to wave.

After what felt like an eternity, the attention moved from them to the game. As he watched kick off, he could feel Murphy's gaze on him. "Uh… everything okay?" he asked.

"Is it always like that?"

"What?" He looked away from the field to scan her face, confused by the question.

"The cameras and the cheering and everything," she clarified.

"Oh." He knew at some point that the girls were going to ask him about the attention of the public, although he hadn't wanted to scare them off from the beginning and had planned to downplay it. But Murphy seemed like someone who could handle it, so he shrugged. "Pretty much," he confessed, "but it's easier when they can just see you rather than try to touch you or something, because then it becomes a bit of a mob scene."

She didn't reply for a minute. He thought she was still thinking about it, but before either could say anything else, one of the Lions' receivers caught a sixty-yard throw and continued to race towards the end zone. The crowd was thunderous, and Nolan might have joined them if he hadn't heard Murphy scoff first. "They're _ridiculous_ ," she declared.

"Who?" he asked.

"The crowd," she explained, "They act like he just saved someone's life or brought about world peace or something."

He was silent, and Murphy glanced at him. "Oh, come on," she chuckled, "You don't find it a little ridiculous that thousands of people—most of them actual adults—are screaming like their life depends on a couple of oversized Neanderthals tossing a ball around?"

He crossed his arms over his Lion's shirt. "No," he countered.

"Ah," Murphy noted, her smirking eyes taking in his shirt. "I've offended you."

"No," he repeated.

"Don't lie," she instructed, "I did, I can tell. I'm sorry. I didn't _mean_ to, I just think—"

"A lot and very definitively, apparently," Nolan interjected, somewhat annoyed himself. This wasn't exactly how he'd imagined their evening going. "Look—so what if people want to love this team and this game? Don't they deserve that? They could be struggling financially or with their health or family or just have had a horrible day, and as stupid as _you_ might think football is, it's made _them_ smile tonight. With everything that's going on in the world, I think they deserve that."

He rose from his seat and paused. "And just so you know, those Neanderthals did hundreds of hours of community service around Angeles last year and have donated millions of dollars through charities." He stalked towards the door of the box, raising a hand to stop Jonathan when his guard stood to follow him. "I'm just going to the bathroom, for god's sake, Jonathan," he sighed, feeling exhausted after dealing with Murphy's attitude for the last hour.

As soon as he'd locked himself in the bathroom, he reached for the pill bottle in the pocket of his jeans. He'd known he needed to take one as soon as he'd felt his temper begin to stir in the box. Most of the time, his anxiety presented itself through fear or the panic attacks. But on occasion, it existed through an intense irritability instead. While Murphy's apparent disdain for the football game had started it, he realized that his anxiety had made him angrier than he might've been if could just be _normal_.

When he emerged, he was surprised to find her sitting on the closed concession stand directly across from the bathroom. He froze, unsure of how to interact with her now that he felt calmer. Before he could say anything, though, Murphy declared, "I'm sorry."

He gave her a small smile. "So, I take it you don't like football?"

"Hate it, in case I hadn't already made that abundantly clear," she admitted with a small smile. "We have a… complicated past, I guess."

"I wouldn't have brought you here if I knew," Nolan answered. He smiled shyly. "It felt like a slam dunk—take the cheerleader to a football game," he admitted, "I just wanted tonight to be fun."

"It still can be," she offered as she hopped off the counter. "The stadium is pretty cool," she noted as she glanced around. "And we've already given your guards the drop, so want to do some exploring?"

"Uh…" But before he could logically veto her plan, she took his hand, and he couldn't speak because his heart had jumped into his throat.

She led him up four flights of stairs, and he was a little embarrassed that he was more winded than she was when they reached the top. "It is a cool view," she admitted as she wandered to an opening on the side of the building that overlooked the town. It was already dark, but there was a sea of lights below.

"I thought you might be able to see the palace from here," she noted, the slightest hint of disappointment in her voice.

"No," laughed Nolan, "although you can't see the palace from most places, for security reasons. Same with most of our military bases. We tend to pick strategic locations."

"Well, good to know since I'm living in that palace currently," chuckled Murphy.

"Is that a good thing?" Nolan asked, a little nervous of what her answer would be.

Murphy considered the question. "I'm still deciding."

"Well, let me know when you know," quipped Nolan.

"You'll be the first," she assured him.

He wandered away from the window to one of the nearby concessions. "Are you hungry at all?" he asked.

Murphy laughed. "I'm always hungry."

He paused before he allowed himself to share, "Me too. Bayer's always telling me I'm going to get fat."

She rolled her eyes. "Your cousin seems like a real charmer."

"You don't know the half of it," agreed Nolan as he pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. "I guarantee he falls more into the Neanderthal category than any of those football players."

She cringed. "Can we forget I called them that?" she asked. "Your guilt trip about their community service and charity involvement made me feel like an asshole." She paused. "Oh, shit. Sorry. I probably shouldn't swear in front of the prince." Another pause. "I did it again."

He laughed. "You can swear," he shrugged, "Again, I grew up with Bayer."

Murphy relaxed again and glanced at the concession stand ahead of them. "So, what are we getting?"

"You are about to have the best chili cheese fries you will ever consume in your entire life," Nolan declared. "Honestly, they're probably the reason I ever got into football in the first place. My dad used to drag us along to these, and I never really wanted to come until he started bribing me with these fries."

He placed two orders, and armed with their food, Nolan led them through one of the entrances to the stands. They made their way to the very top of the nosebleed sections, which weren't quite full, and no one paid them any attention as they sat in the empty back row. Instead of facing the field below, Murphy pulled her legs into her hard, folding seat and turned so she was facing Nolan. "I'm expecting magic," she warned Nolan as she stabbed a group of fries with a fork.

"You will not be disappointed," he promised her, already on his second mouthful.

He watched as she scooped a large forkful into her mouth. After a moment of chewing, she held her hand over her mouth. "Okay, you win," she declared, "I couldn't even pretend to hate those."

"Sorry, you mean I actually managed to do something right tonight?" snorted Nolan. "It's a miracle." Murphy rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him.

As they sat at the top of the stadium in a comfortable anonymity and worked through their food, their conversation came a lot easier. Murphy told him about her friends back home—Fran, Fran's bulldog Mickey, and Walker—and Nolan explained the dynamic of his own group. They found out that they were both interested in theater, which excited them both and set Nolan's mind spinning for a potential future date. While Murphy was judgmental and certainly had strong opinions, he sort of liked that about her. It didn't feel like she was hiding at all, and he had a feeling he knew what he was getting with her.

Although they'd paid it little attention, the game dragged on, and before either had noticed, the stands were emptying as everyone departed to the bathroom or to get food during halftime. The game commentary had been traded for music, and Murphy's ears perked up when she realized what song was playing. "Oh, my _god!_ "

Nolan glanced around in confusion. "Is everything okay…?"

"I _love_ this song!" she declared. He vaguely recognized the song, "Sweet Caroline." "Honestly, it might be my favorite song ever. Dance with me!" She jumped to her feet, tugging Nolan along with her, and started moving to the rhythm as she shouted the words.

It took her only a few seconds to realize Nolan wasn't joining in. She momentarily stopped dancing. "What's wrong?"

"I don't dance," Nolan announced. He knew how to ballroom dance, of course, but when it came to a natural sense of rhythm and dancing for fun, Nolan was hopeless. Bayer had always tried to show him, as his cousin insisted there were much more pleasant ways to dance with a girl than a waltz, but Nolan had long since decided he hated dancing and refused to try.

"Oh, come on," she coaxed. "Just hop."

He was about to protest that he didn't want to hop when Murphy grabbed his hand and started jumping to the beat of the song. He had two choices: let her keep tearing his arm up and down uncomfortably as she jumped around, or hop. He heaved a deep sigh and chose the latter.

He wasn't sure if it was because he was just jumping around like an idiot or Murphy's terrible singing, but for one of the first times in his life, dancing didn't feel that bad. He even felt confident enough to give her a quick spin that made her smile widen. No one was paying much attention to them, and it felt good to blend in and not have to worry so much. Despite their rocky start, he felt surprisingly comfortable around her.

And maybe it was that comfortable feeling or fatigue from the day as it was already ten o'clock at night or the high feeling from their ridiculous dancing, but when the pair collapsed back into their seats, Nolan turned to Murphy and asked, "Can I take you out tomorrow?"

Whether similar feelings motivated her response, Nolan wasn't sure, but he didn't quite care much, because Murphy reached out and took his hand. "Yep," she declared simply in that definitive way that she usually spoke.

When halftime ended and the game resumed, they decided to make their way back to the box before Jonathan sent a search party after them. They walked in silence, hands still entwined, and Nolan's mind spun as he realized it had taken two fifteen minute quarters for him to develop a crush on Murphy O'Hara.


	9. 109 Days Before

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the slight delay. I have a lot of stuff going on in real life, so updates might be a bit more sporadic until the end of May. More girls introduced this chapter, but still not everyone so no need to panic if your character hasn't come up yet. As always, thank you so much to everyone who reads this and particularly those of you who review. :)

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Chapter Eight: 109 Days Before

Despite being twins, Leanna and Nolan were very different people. If those who knew them best were ever asked to describe Nolan, there was a good chance that "dutiful" would be the consensus they would come to. But if they were posed the same question regarding Lea, it would be difficult for them to come to a single word.

Nolan could describe her as carefree, although she did take the duties that were entrusted to her as princess adequately. She was always present for official appearances, looking picture perfect, and was a gracious host whenever they had royal or political guests. Her father might call her charismatic, as he regularly praised Lea for the way that everyone who met her loved her, as though he hadn't seen the vicious media pieces that called her vapid or naïve. To her mother, she would be passionate, as Mae was the person who knew many of the thoughts and desires that plagued the princess's mind. To Kingsley, who was more like another brother to Lea, she might be fanciful, as she painted the best version of their world to her ever-brooding cousin.

Lea loved her family immensely and knew that they loved her. But the truth was being royal was difficult, because it meant rising to the impossible expectations that the public developed for them. They wanted to know their sovereigns for who they really were, but as soon as they saw a trait that conflicted with their idealistic images, they attacked. They knew exactly what a king, queen, prince, and princess should be, though they had little understanding of how difficult it was not to fall from such a high pedestal.

Criticism hurt Nolan, because he had always been a people pleaser but also because he loved Illéa. For Lea, it had always been more difficult to rouse the passionate sense of duty that she knew she should have felt as a princess. Where Nolan loved his country and revered his future role of king, Lea loved her family and would bow to no one when they were concerned.

She would even protect them from her own shortcomings. Although she was always one of his most ardent supporters, she saw how Nolan's anxiety impacted their family—how her parents felt guilty, almost like they'd failed him, and how Nolan was ashamed of the parts of himself that he couldn't control.

She saw the way that people loved her best when she was smiling and happy. She saw the way the public glowed with pride when she prescribed to the role of the perfect princess, which in turn let her parents relax with relief. She saw the way that Nolan and Kingsley and Bayer and almost _anyone_ felt that they could open up to her about their troubles and concerns, because it seemed like she had none of her own.

The truth was Lea saw a lot, and for better or for worse, those observations subtly shaped her.

But the saving grace for Lea was that Alexander Havilland saw even more than she did. He noticed the way she preferred to be called Leanna, even though everyone in her life used her nickname. He noticed the way she discreetly but obsessively arranged objects and was the first one that had suggested it might be a compulsion and tried to help her conquer it. He noticed the way she blinked too quickly in succession when something made her sad, but she didn't want others to see.

It might have been her last name that made her a princess, but Alex was the one that made her life feel like a fairytale.

"Do you have to go?" he frowned, wrapping his arms around Lea from behind. While Alex tended to be more reserved about physical contact at the palace—it could be traced back to a horrifying moment when they were sixteen and seventeen respectively and Oliver had found them making out on a couch in one of the lesser used sitting rooms—in the safety of his apartment, it was rare that he wasn't touching Lea in some way, even if it was as simple as their arms pressed together.

She relaxed against his chest. "Yes," she insisted with a chuckle.

Alex deposited a barrage of kisses on the clear, tan skin of her cheek, and Lea collapsed into a fresh set of giggles. "Really?" whined her boyfriend.

"Really," she reiterated as she turned in his arms to face him. Although it was a Thursday and Alex should have been at work, he'd been working a lot of overtime lately, and at the first mention from Lea that she missed him, he'd offered to take the morning off. Now, however, it was nearing one o'clock, which meant Alex would have to report to the office and Lea would have to return to the palace for a meeting that she had set up earlier in the week.

Their lazy morning reminded her of the Saturdays that she usually spent with him in his little apartment in Angeles. In the busy aftermath of _The Report_ on Fridays, Oliver either didn't notice her slip away with Alex or decided it was a battle he didn't want to fight. Mae had given her permission, so Friday nights and Saturday mornings, Lea and Alex could pretend that there wasn't anything outside of the little apartment.

"Feels like a Saturday, huh?" Alex asked, reading her mind like always.

Lea smiled and raked a hand through his dark, messy hair. "Someday we'll have a lot more than Fridays and Saturdays," she murmured.

"I can't wait," Alex smiled, pulling her closer. Any thoughts of their impending schedules disappeared as soon as their lips touched, and Lea let herself melt into the familiar embrace. After six years, every touch still felt like the first, still ignited the same fire in the pits of her stomach, still electrified every spot that their skin met.

She would have been able to completely disregard reality—including her time sensitive schedule—if she didn't accidentally push Alex right into a pile of sketches that she'd been working on earlier. She gasped, pulling away instantly. Her boyfriend was already sitting up, aware of what had happened.

"Did I smudge anything?" he asked, clearly concerned as he handed the pages to Lea.

"No, they're fine," Lea assured him while she smoothed out a few crinkles.

"What are you working on this time?" Alex asked, resting his chin on Lea's shoulder.

She proudly held up one of her sketches. "Sky bridge," she answered simply.

One of the things that was frequently ignored about Lea by the public was the fact that she had passions and talents other than fashion and etiquette. She'd always enjoyed her art lessons as a child, and as she got older, she realized she _loved_ architecture. Her favorite part of the traveling that she did as princess was the rich architectural history of Europe. When she'd first seen Notre Dame in France, she'd actually been moved to tears. She wanted to build things like that: things that people could marvel at, that could stand the test of time, and add to the richness of Illéa's history.

"It's incredible." It was similar to the responses that he usually gave her work, but they never felt dismissive. It actually seemed like he was in awe of her sketches and configurations.

Before she could say anything else, the alarm that informed them both that it was time to return to real life blared from Alex's phone. He groaned and looked irritated as he stabbed at the 'off' button. Though they both looked disappointed, neither verbally complained as they dragged themselves out of bed. As much as Lea and Alex preferred their world, they both understood their preexisting obligations.

"What's on the schedule for the day?" Alex asked as he changed into a pair of scrubs.

Lea shamefully inspected him in the mirror until he'd pulled his shirt over his head, which made him blush exasperatedly when he noticed. "Pilates," she answered simply as she pulled her wavy caramel hair from its messy bun. It cascaded down her back, and she could tell that Alex had to repress the urge to reach out to run his fingers through it.

He paused when he thought about what she'd said. "Pilates? Are you making Bayer and Orlando go with you again?"

She laughed. "No, although I should, because that was hilarious," she admitted, "I actually invited some of the Selected."

Truthfully, Lea had been a little disappointed since the Selection started. She saw the masks the Selected wore, much as she identified those favored by her own family. She saw the girls, like Persephone and Rhiannon, that were holding something back, trying to present their best faces to Nolan. She saw the ever-constant cheerfulness radiated by Cheryl and Freida that she suspected concealed an aimlessness. Though she was unsure of its source, she saw a worry that had nagged Raina since her first meeting with Nolan, threatening to break the sensitive girl's resolve.

Although she was trying her best to be understanding with the girls, she was growing tired of trying to peel away the charm and concealment. It frustrated her to try to get to know the girls and have them treat her with kid gloves, broaching only topics such as fashion and etiquette, as though they wanted to believe—or genuinely believed, Lea wasn't sure which would be worse—that there was little more to the princess.

But she reminded herself that one day one of them would be her family too, and it was probably this assessment that renewed her resolve to build relationships with them.

Alex didn't look surprised by her continued attempts to get to know the girls, although she had voiced her frustrations to him. "Proud of you, Leanna," he declared, pausing to kiss her cheek.

She beamed. Even if the day was a total bust, his approval would have made it worth it. "Thanks, babe. Go save some lives today, huh?" she winked at him.

He laughed. "I mean, it'll probably be a little more routine than that, but good to know someone thinks I'm a hero."

"Always," she assured him, pausing for one more kiss. As she stepped out the door, she felt the same pang of longing that she always did when she left Alex, as though there was an invisible connection between them that didn't enjoy physical separation. But she pushed it aside, comforted by the knowledge that he'd be back at the palace that evening when his half-day of work was over, and sent a bright smile at her guard, Jason, who was posted outside the apartment.

"Good morning," she greeted him.

"Afternoon," Jason corrected her as he held his hand out for her bag and offered her a pair of sunglasses. Jason had been her guard since she was sixteen, and his stoicism had always made their interactions feel like a game to Lea. On days where she got him to smile or laugh, she won. On the days that he maintained his unreadable mask, he did.

They made their way through the barrage of photographers downstairs—Alex had reluctantly accepted a guard of his own when the media coverage surrounding the couple had started getting out of hand—and Lea did her best to smile through her irritation as she held Jason's hand until they were in the back of the black SUV. "Think they'll ever get tired of following us around?" she mused as she watched the flashbulbs fight against the tinted black windows.

Jason gave a low laugh, and momentarily, Lea noted that she'd won for the day. "It would take something pretty big to make them forget about you," he countered. Lea frowned for a second, realizing the truth in Jason's assessment.

When they reached the palace, she enlisted Jason with helping her set up yoga mats, towels, and water bottles in one of the gym spaces. While the palace had a more traditional gym, as well as a boxing ring, the room she'd chosen more closely resembled a dance studio and had plenty of windows that provided natural light.

She'd invited Persephone, Raina, Rhiannon, and Ernesta. They were all girls that she hadn't spent much time with, and as Orlando led them into the room, there were varying levels of confusion and anticipation on their faces.

"Hello!" Lea beamed as the four curtsied. "I'm so glad that you could all join me today."

"It was incredibly kind of you to invite us, Your Highness," Persephone answered as the other three nodded their agreement.

"Of course," Lea replied as she stepped up to the center yoga mat. "I hope you guys don't mind Pilates. I thought it would be fun to do some kind of activity instead of another tea party or something like that."

It turned out that she'd chosen well, as all the girls were involved in some type of physical activity in their real lives: Ernesta had PT through the air force, Raina danced, Persephone ran track, and Rhiannon boxed. As they arranged themselves on the five mats that Lea and Jason had set up, she heard Rhiannon mutter, "Pilates with princesses. Who would've thought."

"I like to keep people on their toes," Lea quipped. Rhiannon frowned slightly, as though she hadn't thought the princess was listening to her mumbles.

"Will you be joining us, Lord Phineas?" Raina asked politely.

Orlando laughed, and Lea rolled her eyes at his response. "Not joining," he countered, "I'm your instructor, ladies, so get ready."

"Orlando's ruthless," Lea explained to the others, "but we discussed being nice to newcomers so they don't beg Nolan to be sent home, remember Orly?"

He sighed. "Fine, fine. We won't do the circuit that made Bayer cry last time."

As they all sat down for the breathing exercises that would lead into their workout, Lea glanced around to make sure that everyone had what they would need. But as she looked, she noticed that the stations that Jason had set up looked different from hers. While the blocks, water bottles, and towels that she had provided for the girls were carefully arranged with angles and alignment taken into consideration, Jason's were decidedly less cautiously thrown together. Their appearance made Lea uncomfortable, and she reached out to arrange her own set up even more prudently, as though her own hyper-organization would discount the others.

She didn't realize how long she'd been doing it for until Orlando loudly asked, "Lea?"

She froze. The girls were all looking at her, so she gave a small smile and lied, "Sorry, my water bottle was leaking. Just cleaning it up." She forced her fingers to release the bottle and towel, gripping her knees with them instead. "Ready whenever."

Luckily, Orlando's Pilates session eventually became challenging enough to make her forget the obsessive need for their mats and accessories to be uniformly arranged. She relaxed about halfway through when she was already sweating and her abs were burning.

The other girls seemed to enjoy the workout as well. Rhiannon looked gleeful whenever Orlando declared something a "challenge," as though his description made it more appealing. Ernesta was a little less graceful than the rest, used to more traditional military workouts, but she was a good sport and laughed whenever her balance failed her. Persephone also struggled in the beginning, but when Orlando assured her that things like Pilates and yoga were particularly beneficial for runners, she tried much harder. Raina was undoubtedly the most graceful of them all, except maybe Orlando, her dancer's background clear in her movements.

"You certainly don't mess around with Pilates, Lord Phineas," Rhiannon noted as she laid on her mat and caught her breath.

Orlando bowed. "Anytime you want your butt kicked, I'm here, Rhiannon," he declared, "And can we forget this Lord Phineas thing? I don't actually have a title anyway, and Bayer won't let me live it down if he hears this."

A maid wheeled a cart into the room, and Lea excitedly explained, "I thought we might want some post-workout snacks." They gathered some large floor pillows for comfort, and Lea set the trays on the ground in the middle of their little circle.

No one seemed sure of what to say as they started to pick at the healthy snacks, so Lea offered, "How has your guys' first couple of weeks been?"

Rhiannon answered first. "Wonderful," she declared, "The palace is breathtakingly beautiful." She punctuated the statement with a sweet smile, which made Lea wonder if she had misjudged Rhiannon. She had thought that the girl might end up to be one of the more temperamental members of the group from her initial observations.

Ernesta nodded her agreement. "Definitely not the barracks back at Fort Rivera." She paused before she added, "Not that I mind the barracks, of course, ma'am—uh, Your Highness."

Lea laughed. "Don't worry about offending me," she assured Ernesta, "I could never be in the military. What made you get into it?"

Ernesta blinked, as though she hadn't really thought of it. "I guess it's the family business," she shrugged, "My mother is a colonel, and my father works in intelligence."

"What's your branch and rank?" Lea continued.

"Second lieutenant in the air force," Ernesta answered. Lea noticed her hand twitch and realized she had probably barely managed to quell the urge to salute the princess.

"Impressive," noted Lea, "Kingsley just got promoted to a first lieutenant. I'll have to tell him one of the Selected is on his heels." Ernesta laughed but looked proud at the same time.

Lea turned her attention towards Persephone, who had been somewhat quieter than the other girls. Even Raina, who seemed shy, had giggled and made comments during their grueling Pilates session. "You model, right, Lady Persephone?"

Persephone hesitated for a moment before she nodded. "Yes, Your Highness."

"Oh, yeah," nodded Orlando, "I think I've seen your picture in those fashion magazines that Bayer claims not to read but are somehow always on his coffee table." The rest of the group laughed.

"You know he's always looking for himself on 'best dressed' lists," commented Lea with a roll of her eyes. "Bayer isn't nearly as cool or intimidating as people always think," she confided in the girls before she continued to question Persephone. "Do you enjoy modeling?"

"I'm grateful for it," answered Persephone. Lea had a feeling there was a story behind her response but decided not to push it for the moment, as Persephone still didn't look completely at ease in front of the rest of the group.

"Do you guys have any questions or concerns about the Selection so far?" she asked. "I'm here to help, if so."

They all took a moment to think. Ernesta, Persephone, and Rhiannon seemed to be trying to think of a question, while Raina looked concerned, as though she was trying to suppress her inquiry. Eventually, Rhiannon broke the silence. "Will we be invited to yours and Prince Nolan's upcoming birthday?"

"Of course!" Lea assured them brightly. "I'm very excited. I stared planning it over the summer while Nolan and Alex deserted me to go to Sahara. And Aunt Celine will help you guys with all of the protocol related things that go into a state event like that."

"Does Her Majesty Queen Maelys plan state events usually, or is that more your job?" Persephone asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"Usually, Mom does do it," shrugged Lea, "There's just been… a lot going on." She noticed the way Ernesta's eyes jumped to her and realized the soldier must've been thinking about the war. "With the Selection," Lea added, although it was somewhat a lie. Her mother had been more focused with helping Oliver with foreign politics recently than she normally was.

Orlando seemed to take note of Lea's discomfort, so he added, "Who wants some nasty wheat grass shots?" The girls were distracted by the suggestion, and they took turns cringing at the healthy liquid that Orlando forced on each of them.

They lingered for a little while longer before Celine appeared to request that they return to the Women's Room for that afternoon's history lesson. Lea said her goodbyes to the girls and waved off Orlando's offer to help before she started rolling up the yoga mats.

"Princess Leanna?"

She was startled by the sound of Raina Illéa's voice, as she had thought that she'd returned to the Women's Room with the others. "Lady Raina," she greeted her. "Is everything alright?"

Raina already seemed delicate with a slim build and being about a half foot shorter than Lea's 5'10" frame. But the nervous, slightly slumped set of her shoulders and the way she was anxiously wringing her hands made her seem even smaller at that moment. "I sort of wanted to ask you about something," Raina admitted.

"Of course," Lea smiled. It was the first time one of the Selected had really reached out to confide something in her, and it was only Raina's clear anxiousness that prevented Lea from being truly excited.

"My first meeting with Prince Nolan..." She paused and bit her lip.

Lea bitterly remembered the way Nolan had dismissed her before he'd met with the young Illéa. But she also recalled how he'd insisted that he had a terrible headache and locked himself in his room afterwards. "I take it it didn't go the best?" surmised Lea.

Raina shook her head. Her face was lined with tension. "And I haven't spoken to him since," she admitted, "and whenever I try, he looks away or leaves or…" She gave a helpless shrug. "I just want to make sure he's okay, but I don't know how."

Lea nodded slowly. Nolan must've had a panic attack during his meeting with Raina and was probably embarrassed, she realized. "Being the crown prince is very difficult," Lea noted, "Sometimes… Nolan struggles. But he can also be too proud on occasion. I think he just needs people who can be there for him, no matter how long it takes."

Raina's fingers nervously fidgeted again. "I can do that," she insisted, and Lea didn't doubt it in the least. "But I'm just worried that he's going to send me home before I get a chance to apologize or talk to him or anything."

"Apologize for what? You didn't do anything," Lea pointed out, "and neither did Nolan. Sometimes, things just happen. I know it's probably not easy, but just give him a little more time. If he hasn't sent you home yet, I don't think you need to feel like the executioner's following you around. My brother can be very decisive."

Although she didn't look completely placated, Raina did relax slightly as she nodded. "Thank you," she smiled. "That helps."

"That's what I'm here for," Lea beamed. Raina managed a smile before she departed for the Women's Room once more. As Lea finished putting the room back to order, she realized how strange it was that the first girl she had a meaningful moment with was an Illéa.

* * *

For what seemed like the millionth time that day, a loud beeping sounded from the pocket of Bayer's pants. Nolan raised an eyebrow as he glanced at his cousin, who pretended to be oblivious to the noise. Nolan tried to ignore it too and returned his attention to the palace grounds, which had undergone a transformation that morning in preparation for a date that Nolan was not looking forward to later that evening.

But he could hardly focus on the new greenery or the modified hills that had been created by masterful landscapers because of the incessant ringing. He paused and turned to his cousin. "What?" Bayer asked, clearly much more successful in his disregard of the sound.

"Are you going to answer that?" Nolan asked with a pointed glance at Bayer's pocket.

"Oh." Bayer frowned and pulled the phone from his pocket, but instead of answering, he simply turned it off. He then turned his attention back to the lawn. "Are they going to be able to put this all back to normal after tonight?"

"Yep," nodded Nolan. "It'll be good as new by tomorrow morning, which I had to assure my dad when he saw it and almost had a heart attack."

"What's Uncle Oliver got against mini-golf?" snorted Bayer.

Nolan shrugged, still distracted by Bayer's phone. "You know people only call you when they need to get in touch, right?"

Bayer sighed. "Yes, Nolan, I understand the general gist of telephones and communication."

"Well, you've been ignoring yours all morning," Nolan pointed out.

Bayer frowned. "It's Hana," he explained, referring to the girl that Orlando commonly denoted as "Thot Two." She was the daughter of the major of a nearby town in Angeles and despite her flair for dramatics, generally tried to be a good girlfriend to Bayer. The French prince wasn't exactly low maintenance though.

"Is everything okay?" Nolan asked tentatively.

Bayer sighed, sounding both exasperated and exhausted. "I broke up with her," he shrugged, "She disagrees that's how our relationship should progress."

"Oh." It wasn't exactly what Nolan had expected, and as a guy who would have to break up with over twenty girls in the upcoming months as the Selection advanced, he felt a little bad for Bayer. "Well, that's good, right?" he asked, "Now you and Lavinia—"

"I didn't do it for Lavinia," Bayer countered with a roll of his eyes. "I met this new actress named Jada. I try to only keep two on the active roster at once, though, so Hana had to go. It's too tiring to juggle more."

"Oh," repeated Nolan. "You ever think about settling down, Bayer?"

"Now, why on earth would I do something as dumb as that?" smirked his cousin.

"It's not _dumb_ ," protested Nolan. "Not every marriage ends like your parents', you know—"

"And not everyone is some magical fairytale like _your_ parents'," retorted Bayer. "My advice is to enjoy the ride, Nol, because at some point you're going to be stuck with one of these girls for the rest of your life."

A smile eased itself onto Nolan's face, and Bayer groaned. "Am I going to have to hear about your whirlwind romance with Murphy again?" he complained.

"It's not a 'whirlwind romance.' We're just getting to know each other," argued Nolan.

Bayer rolled his eyes. "It is a whirlwind," his cousin argued, "You get one schoolboy crush, and it's like you've already decided the whole competition. If you keep seeing her every day like you have since your football date, you're going to make her unpopular with the other girls."

"Oh, stop," Nolan countered, "It's not just a schoolboy crush. Murphy's great. But this isn't a competition, and even if it were, not all girls get jealous like Hana and Lavinia. Some can actually be friends and not envious of each other, even if they have the same goal."

The French prince snorted. "Thank you for confirming that you clearly still know nothing about girls," Bayer chuckled. He clapped his cousin on the shoulder. "Enjoy your mini golf. Hope your theory about this 'no jealousy' thing holds out."

Although he pretended it wasn't a big deal in front of Bayer, Nolan had been made aware of the extra attention he'd been paying to Murphy lately—embarrassingly enough by his mother. Admittedly, she'd cautioned him in a manner similar to Bayer, adding a story about how some of the girls had been mean to Xander's sister, Margaery, when Oliver had shown interest in her early on in his Selection.

So, despite his discomfort about it, he decided to invite a group of four to spend some time with him. It was a small enough group that he hoped he wouldn't feel overwhelmed, but it was efficient and gave him the time to get to know more than one girl without having to carve out separate times for them. He'd invited Gwen, Freida, Kylee, and Safiya—all girls that he'd either been interested in or unsure of during their first meetings. He was keeping his father's financial advice in the forefront of his mind as well and was prepared to send any or all the girls home if he didn't feel a spark with them.

He wasn't particularly fond of golf—Lea had always been better at it than him, which he found embarrassing—but he remembered that he'd seen it in an article titled "cute date ideas" or something like that in a magazine. He'd considered taking them to a preexisting miniature golf course, but when he started to discuss the security requirements of such an outing with Jonathan, he'd just given up and asked if they could build one at the palace.

It turned out they could, and it made a pretty picturesque addition. There were little green hills, a windmill, turning pathways, and sparkling fairy lights everywhere. It seemed challenging enough to give the girls a distraction if he wasn't particularly interesting. He'd considered inviting some of his friends but had resisted, although Pip trotted along at his side, always willing to provide a diversion.

The girls met him outside a short while after dinner. They were dressed in summery outfits, as the late August weather was still warm despite the setting sun. Jonathan accompanied them, which Nolan found a little unnecessary considering they were still on the palace grounds, but he appreciated the backup.

They stopped in a little semi-circle in front of him, curtseying discordantly and with varying levels of skill. No one spoke as they looked at him, and Nolan tried to push his nervousness away. "Hi," he greeted them, "Thanks for joining me. I thought mini-golf might be fun, and we have an ice cream set up too, if you guys were interested in dessert."

No one moved for a minute, and Nolan didn't know how to prompt them forward until Safiya took charge. She collected a putting iron and golf ball before she turned to the rest of the group, her dark eyes shining. "Shall we?"

The rest followed suit, and as the girls considered which balls and putters to collect, Nolan hung back with Safiya. He still felt a little bad that he'd seemed to offend her during their first meeting, and although he'd planned to watch one of her movies so they had something to discuss before he saw her next, he hadn't gotten the chance yet. So, instead, he tried, "I'm working on expanding my film knowledge."

"A wise idea, Your Highness," replied Safiya. Her voice was smooth but soft at the same time, the kind of tone that made Nolan feel a little more relaxed.

"Any suggestions?" he prompted. He had a feeling that Safiya was the type of person who enjoyed expressing her opinions.

She considered the question for a moment. "Anything with Audrey Hepburn," she finally decided. "She's an icon for a reason."

His stomach jumped. For the briefest moment, he considered telling her how much he loved _Roman Holiday_ since he realized that it might be something they could bond over. But like with Jay, he was embarrassed to confess that he liked a movie that wasn't exactly the picture of masculinity, so instead, he forced a smile and replied, "Thank you, Lady Safiya." Then, he grabbed his own putting iron and herded the four towards the first hole.

It wasn't Safiya's fame that intimidated Nolan. It might've been her appearance, that she so beautiful with her tall figure, dark hair, tanned skin, and glimmering chocolatey gaze. But it was more that although she addressed him in accordance with protocol, he had a feeling that she didn't quite revere him as people usually did. The fact that he was a prince seemed to have little to no impact on her, and he wasn't sure if that was something he liked or not yet.

As they took their turns on the first stop of the course, he gravitated towards Freida, who was nearly the opposite of Safiya. She had light blonde hair, light hazel eyes with none of the smokiness of Safiya's, and was a little shorter rather than nearly at eye level with Nolan. "Have you ever played before, Lady Freida?" he asked.

He waited for a second before he realized that Freida wasn't answering him. He was standing quite closer to her, so it seemed unlikely that she hadn't heard him, and he frowned. "Lady Freida?" She still didn't immediately turn to him, so Nolan reluctantly tapped her shoulder.

"Oh! I'm so sorry," Freida laughed. "Usually, everyone just calls me Frey, so sometimes when I hear Freida, it sort of goes over my head."

It made sense. On the rare occasions that he called his sister by her full name, it was met with confusion. "Well, then, Lady Frey," he tried again, earning himself a warm smile from her, "have you ever played golf before?"

She laughed. "Well, mini-golf is a bit different than actual golf," she pointed out, "but a few times. Never seriously. I was too wrapped up in tennis in high school."

Nolan's face lit up. "I love tennis," he offered. He'd always been much more interested in non-contact sports, though his father had somewhat irresponsibly—in Nolan's opinion—tried to get him into football as a child. When Frey only responded to his sentence with a smile, he added in a rather spontaneous manner, for him at least, "Would you maybe want to play sometime?"

Frey looked surprised by the offer, but she nodded a minute later. "That'd be great."

Feeling a little successful, Nolan assured her they'd make a plan this upcoming week and then took his turn on the green. When they moved to the next hole, he found Kylee, who he'd yet to speak with.

He'd decided to speak with Kylee while he was still feeling successful from establishing a plan with Frey and the fact that he'd done pretty well at his last putt. Kylee's background in mental health research made him uncomfortable. His biggest fear was that she would look at him and instantly see his anxiety, so he was determined to conceal it a little harder around her.

She noticed him approach, and her smile became a little wider while she tugged at her outfit to make sure that it was in place. "Lady Kylee," he greeted her.

"Your Highness." She curtsied quite well, and an excited blush tinged her cheeks as she looked up at Nolan. It might've been her unabashed enthusiasm to be around him, but he suddenly recalled that she was one of the younger girls in the Selection.

"I'm sorry we haven't gotten a chance to talk much yet," he offered, not interested in engaging in the usual small talk again.

"Oh, don't be sorry," Kylee countered instantly. "I can imagine that you're pretty busy."

"Just always, usually," allowed Nolan with a chuckle. Kylee giggled along with him. "I'm not really good at the getting to know people thing," he admitted, "but tell me something interesting about yourself, Lady Kylee."

She considered the question for a minute. "Will you tell me something about yourself too?" she asked. It seemed like general interest rather than a nicety, so Nolan nodded his agreement, even though the question made him a little nervous.

She tucked a strand of her dark hair behind her ear and pointed to direct Nolan's attention. "I'm partially deaf," she explained. "But if I have my hearing aids, everything's fine."

Nolan was unsure of how to respond. "Does it bother you at all?"

"Not really," shrugged Kylee with a smile. "It could be a lot worse."

He liked that she seemed so positive about the situation. "So, I guess it's my turn now, huh?" he grimaced. Kylee nodded excitedly. "Uh, well…" He racked his brain, trying to think of something that could possibly be interesting about himself.

When he finally did come up with something, he was surprised at the admission that escaped his mouth before he realized what he was saying. "Lea and I don't know who's the older twin."

Kylee's eyebrows knit together in confusion. "Why not?"

He felt idiotic for admitting such a thing to a girl that he was having his second conversation with. "Uh, just something my parents did," he shrugged, trying to get away from the topic.

"Did they not want you guys to feel pressured?" she asked. Now, she looked less curious and more admiring of the king and queen.

"Something like that," admitted Nolan. He felt a little hot, like his anxiety was about to scold him for his moment of stupidity, so he gave Kylee a forced smile. "Excuse me," he muttered before he hurried away from the course and towards the ice cream table.

Luckily, no one pursued him, and he took a minute to calm down. Some girls did make him feel more comfortable than others, and he supposed that was what had made him tell Kylee about the weird situation about who was older. It wasn't a secret among his family or friends that Nolan was obsessed with who was the elder twin, but the public had always assumed that since he was the heir, Nolan was. Kylee had probably thought the same until he mentioned it.

He resolved not to spill any of his deeper preoccupations for the remainder of the night and collected five waffle bowls of ice cream so that the girls weren't too curious about his sudden disappearance. When he returned, Kylee didn't seem hung up on their conversation, and it was easy to focus on the game rather than getting to know the girls. Frey and Kylee were more laid back, while Gwen and Safiya seemed a little focused on winning. It wasn't much of a competition in the end, as Gwen proved to have much more hand-eye coordination than the rest of them.

He talked with everyone casually a little more, and there were no topics that made him freak out too much. It felt like a successful evening as they all returned their putters and balls and said their goodbyes. However, as he watched the group disappear, Nolan realized that he hadn't gotten to talk with Gwen as much as he would've liked during the game. After a quick weighing of the pros and cons in his head, he called, "Lady Gwen, you were our winner, correct?"

Although he'd hoped only Gwen would linger, the other girls paused as well, glancing between the pair. A half-smile tugged at Gwen's face. "Guilty as charged."

"Would you stay for a minute?" he asked. "I think we should probably come up with some kind of accolade for you."

The half-smile blossomed, and Gwen started back towards him. "If you insist," she beamed.

The other girls still hesitated, so Nolan nervously offered, "Thank you, ladies. Jonathan will accompany you back to the palace." Reluctantly, the three departed, but as he watched their retreating figures, Nolan had a feeling that he might've upset or disappointed them a bit.

"So, what's my prize?" Gwen asked excitedly as she stopped before the prince.

"Oh," chuckled Nolan, "I don't have one."

Gwen's face fell. "Oh."

Nolan nervously rubbed his forearm. "Uh… I just sort of wanted to… you know, spend a little more time with you," he explained in a rush before he could begin to regret his honesty.

The frown disappeared. "Oh!" she repeated, seemingly pleased.

He glanced around. Even at night, the grounds were well lit. "Do you want to take a walk?" he suggested.

"Sure," smiled Gwen. He thought about offering his arm to her, but Murphy had recently teased him about his ever-present formality, so he allowed his arms to hang by his side as they walked together.

"So, how are things at the palace so far?" Nolan asked. Starting conversations and small talk had always been hardest for him, and it was beginning to irritate him that he'd had to do so much of it lately.

"Good," nodded Gwen. "The maids are amazing. It's incredible that there are people to do all the things I'm usually too lazy too."

"Such as?" prodded Nolan.

"This might be a weird thing to admit to someone you're trying to date," acknowledged Gwen, "but I hate brushing my hair. It's so frizzy and long and blah, but the maids are on top of it." She paused. "I'm really garbage with names, so I've called them the totally wrong things most days, but I'm working on it."

He liked that she valued the staff. He himself had always been incredibly appreciative of his attendant and the maids that kept his quarters in working order. Some people—like Bayer—tended to take those who kept them in comfort for granted. "They are fantastic," he agreed.

"Do you ever get… I don't know, weirded out by your guard following you around all the time?" Gwen asked.

Nolan laughed. "Jonathan? No, of course not. He was my father's guard before he was mine, so I've grown up with him."

"It just…" She shrugged. "Like, it's kind of weird how they're always just posted in the halls, even when you're sleeping and everything."

"You get used to it," Nolan admitted. "I think I'd be more uncomfortable if they weren't around while I was sleeping now."

Before Gwen could reply, her eyes lit up as they noticed something beyond Nolan. "Oh, my gosh, you have a _lake_?" She abandoned the path, taking off through the grass and causing Nolan to sigh before he reluctantly followed. He resisted the urge to correct her that it was a pond.

"Do you ever swim in it?" Gwen asked when he joined her, her eyes twinkling.

He didn't like where this was going. "We have a pool as well," Nolan countered, "with chlorine and a perfectly balanced pH level."

"Wait, you have a lake that you've never swam in?" Gwen demanded.

"It's not like I _have_ a pond," protested Nolan, "It's just kind of here. And why would I swim in it? Ducks swim in there." He shuddered at the thought of ducks.

Gwen studied him for a moment before she kicked off her sandals. "What are you doing?" Nolan asked, nervous at the way she pulled her floor length skirt up to do so.

"We're going swimming."

He laughed. "No, we certainly are not."

"Come on," urged Gwen, "Loosen up a little. It'll be fun."

'Loosen up' was his least favorite advice, although it was a suggestion that he heard often. "I don't think it's cleaned often," he remarked as he examined the pond.

"It's a lake!" laughed Gwen. "They don't need cleaned."

"It's a pond," he finally pointed out, "There are all sorts of plants and probably bacteria—"

"Oh, stop," countered Gwen with a giggle, "It looks super clear!" She paused. "If you don't take your shoes off, I'm just going to push you in with them on."

He glared at her. "This is why you should keep your guard around at all times," he mumbled before he dropped to the ground and pulled his socks and shoes off.

Gwen looked excited as they approached the little dock that led into the pond. "Are you ready?" she asked excitedly.

"No," retorted Nolan.

She took his hand. "On the count of three?"

"If you insist," he sighed.

"One… two... three!"

But at last minute as they took their running start towards the end of the dock, Nolan's body decided that even if his mind was resigned to this ridiculous idea, he physically wasn't going to participate. He froze right at the edge, wrenching his hand out of Gwen's as she leaped into the air. She didn't notice until she emerged from the water and turned to see Nolan standing on the dock still. "Really?" she laughed, though she didn't sound angry at all.

"The ducks poop in there," he pointed out bluntly.

Gwen rolled her eyes as she continued to tread water. "If I get poisoned by duck poop, you can say 'I told you so.'"

"And if you don't?"

"Looks like you're stuck with me for a little longer then," winked Gwen.

An unwilling smile tugged at Nolan's face as he sat down on the edge of the dock and dipped his feet into the water. "I guess that wouldn't be the worst thing," he allowed.

"Good to know," Gwen smiled. She paddled closer to him. "Now, help me out. I think the Loch Ness Monster just grabbed my foot."


	10. 106 Days Before

**Author's Note:** Hello! Just a heads up, April is the month from hell for me, so I might not be able to get another update out until after May 12th when my exams end (pray for me, bc your girl needs it). This chapter has some of my favorite characters in it, even if they're just mentioned, so enjoy :D

* * *

Chapter Nine: 106 Days Before

There had been some surreal moments in Ryder's life as of late. Raina being Selected, for one. He and Finn becoming officers was another. Meeting Calliope Gauge—that was a definitely a big one. But being personally collected by Prince Tristan and chauffeured to the palace in a luxe town car might've taken the cake.

He shifted, feeling a little out of place and confined in the fancy car. Tristan seemed to notice, his eyes slowly drifting up from the cell phone that he had been attached to for the duration of their drive. Ryder hadn't been offended at all; he supposed being one of the most powerful people in the government was a busy job. But there was an irrationally suspicious part of him that felt like Tristan was taking notes on him.

"Is everything alright, Lieutenant?" Tristan asked.

Ryder—who'd always let his students call him Mr. I—was still getting used to being addressed by his rank, and it took him a second to realize that the prince must've been talking to him, as there was no one else in the car aside from the driver. "Oh, yeah," shrugged Ryder, "just… a little confused. Any hints you wanna share on what this is about?"

Tristan's mouth twitched, like he was trying to keep a neutral expression. "I am simply His Majesty's humble servant," Tristan announced. His tone made Ryder chuckle: it was the same dry, sarcastic voice Finn used when he was thoroughly finished with Ryder's occasionally—eternally, Finn would argue—extra behavior. It was a good reminder—because people, Ryder included, seemed to forget—that the King and Lord Chancellor were brothers.

They lapsed into silence until Ryder had another thought. "Hey," he interjected, tearing Tristan's attention from his phone once again, "did you ever meet my dad when you guys were younger?"

This time, Tristan failed to control his reaction. His face seemed to be a mixture of sad, anger, and regret. "We knew each other as children," he admitted, "Since then though, my wife and I had more interaction with your grandfather."

"Oh." Marid. Ryder knew that couldn't be good.

The silence persisted until the car stopped in front of the palace, and Ryder whistled when he saw the enormous structure. He almost commented on the palace's vastness, but he stopped himself when he remembered that it had been built by _his_ extravagant ancestors, not those of the Schreaves.

It was no smaller on the inside, and Ryder was certain that he was going to get lost trying to find his way out. He had no prior experience to compare it to, but for a Sunday, he thought the palace seemed busy. Staff and guests hurried about, as though they were in the midst of frantic preparation for something. He kept his eyes peeled for his sister as he followed Tristan and was disappointed when he didn't see her before Tristan stopped.

They stood outside a nondescript door, although that had his attention much less than the enormous human that guarded the door. He was tall, tan, bald, and Ryder wasn't sure if he was more intimidated by the piercing gaze that the man fixed him with or the fact that his biceps were probably the size of Ryder's head.

"Does Jonathan need to search you for any weapons, Lieutenant?" Tristan asked.

"Nope," squeaked Ryder, "Definitely not."

"You will bow as such," Tristan gestured to Jonathan, who demonstrated a bow far more graceful than Ryder would have thought him capable of, "address the king as 'Your Majesty', sit only if he offers, speak when spoken to, and do not touch or approach him."

He was meeting with the king. Holy shit.

Before he'd barely nodded, Tristan opened the door and announced, "Lieutenant Illéa, Oliver."

Although he'd been running through Tristan's checklist in his head, when Ryder saw the king all he could do was gawk. In some ways, Oliver had always seemed a bit like a mythical creature—like a unicorn or maybe Santa Claus. Ryder knew that he existed somewhere in the world, but his chances of encountering him had always seemed nonexistent.

Oliver didn't seem to mind and gestured to the seat across from his desk. "Lieutenant. Please, have a seat."

"Oh, uh, thanks," Ryder replied, jolted back to life by the invitation. He gave a smaller bow than the one that Jonathan had demonstrated, muttered, "Your Majesty," and took a seat. Oliver sat as well, unabashedly examining the younger man in silence for a moment.

He caught Ryder off guard when he spoke. "You look like your father," the king announced.

"Uh… yeah. I get that a lot," Ryder replied.

"Sorry," chuckled Oliver, "I just didn't expect it. Your sister favors…"

"Yeah," repeated Ryder, his voice harder this time. He didn't have enough fingers to count how many people had told them—usually unkindly—that Raina looked like their estranged aunt, Regan Dragomirov (née Illéa), tsarina of Russia.

Oliver at least had the decency to look apologetic. "Sorry," he offered, surprising Ryder once more. "I didn't invite you here to talk about, uh, less desirable family members." He stood, and Ryder noticed that he looked thinner than he usually did on TV or in magazines or—hilariously—the posters that Raina used to have in her room. "Can I get you a drink?" Oliver asked as he crossed to the liquor cabinet in the corner of his study. "Tequila, scotch, wine? Or a sandwich maybe?"

Ryder briefly wondered what Finn's expression would have looked like if he told him that he spent the afternoon casually drinking tequila (Finn's favorite) with one of the most celebrated kings in Illéa's recent history. But Ryder also knew that he'd make a face at the strong drink or perhaps cough, and he wasn't trying to emasculate himself in front of such a person. "A sandwich would be great," he offered.

Oliver uncovered a tray on his desk that held a plate of sandwiches that Ryder noticed were made exactly to his preference: white bread without crusts, turkey, lettuce, onion, tomato, mayonnaise, and cut into two triangles. "How did you…?"

"Oh." Oliver frowned down at the tray. "I guess… uh, it's how your dad likes his sandwiches too."

Ryder raised his eyebrows. Like Raina, he knew that there was history between his father and King Oliver. But Alaric had never elaborated, and at some point, Ryder's curiosity had faded. But if, after twenty-three years, Oliver could remember how Alaric took his sandwiches, the history must've been a lot more interesting than Ryder had thought.

He didn't get a chance to ask Oliver about it, because the king soon started to direct the conversation. "So, Lieutenant, how are you enjoying your assignment at Pacifica?"

"Uh, it's great," Ryder admitted. "Pacifica is really cool, and Captain Mack is awesome."

Ryder had a feeling that he gained some brownie points by complimenting the base that the king had built from the ground up based on Oliver's smile. But the king didn't linger on the topic and instead noted, "General Zoltan speaks very highly of Captain Mack as well." One of the single pair of four star generals in Illéa, General Zoltan was widely regarded as General Gauge's second-in-command.

"Speaking of generals," continued Oliver, not very subtly in Ryder's opinion, "have you had the pleasure of meeting the Lord High Admiral?"

"Once," Ryder admitted, trying not to blush, "off duty, though." He paused before he decided to go with full disclosure and explained, "I have a recent acquaintanceship with Calliope."

The king's smirk told Ryder that he was well aware. "So I've heard," he declared. That he didn't explain how he had heard made Ryder a little nervous, but he figured he'd be flouting some kind of decorum if he asked about it.

"Look, Ryder," sighed Oliver, "I've read all of your reports and spoken to all of your superiors. From what I've heard, you're an asset, and your placement at Pacifica was warranted based on all of your scores and potential. I want to see you do well. But I have to ask: why all of the sudden does a popular middle school teacher whose lived in Likely his whole life decide to pack up and move to Angeles for an unpredictable, dangerous, stressful position as an army officer?"

It was the question everyone wanted to know but few were brave enough to investigate. Being king probably gave Oliver the confidence to ask anything though. Ryder took a minute to fully think about his reasons himself before he answered. "My best friend, Finn, is from Romania. He's great—he never looked at us as Illéas, just people. He's really been more like family than anything else, especially after his parents moved back to Romania when we were eighteen. I've visited a few times with him. It's beautiful, and the people are great."

"And now," continued Ryder, his jaw tense and his voice hard, "my aunt and grandfather and the royal psychopath that they unleashed over in Russia have decided to just take it. An entire country full of great people like Finn's family. And I think you and I both know they're not planning on stopping anytime soon."

"All I know about Marid and Regan is what my dad has told us," he admitted, "and it's not a lot. I know he didn't get along with Marid, and somedays, he's sad because of what Regan's chosen to do, but he's never been surprised. I've never met them or my cousin, Gregor. It's hard to be an Illéa because of them, so if you're worried, I didn't join the army for a family reunion in Russia."

Oliver didn't respond for a moment, but the corners of his mouth did turn up in a smile. "You're not very much like your father," he noted.

"I get that a lot too," agreed Ryder. He'd always known that Raina was much more like their father: calm, even-keeled, and abundantly kind and caring.

"But you're not like Marid or Regan either," concluded Oliver, "and that's enough for me."

Ryder exhaled a bigger breath than he realized he'd been holding in. "So—I passed the test?" he asked. "I get to stay at Pacifica?"

Oliver rolled his eyes. "Don't be dramatic, Ryder, I wouldn't have kicked you out of Angeles if I was suspicious," the king countered, "I might've had you followed and investigated, but I like to think I'm not as extreme as banishment anymore."

Ryder had been prepared to express his relief at such a fact when the king added, "Though I can't same the same for Gauge, so in the spirit of friendliness, I'd just like to caution you about your… friendship with Calli."

Between his renewed nervousness and the fact that he had no clue how to respond, Ryder decided to just shove half a sandwich into his mouth and gave a noncommittal mumble. Oliver chuckled, like it was a move he'd utilized a few times in his life as well. "Well, if that's all—"

"I did actually just want to ask you something," Ryder realized, cutting the king off before he could really think about it. "Oh—uh, sorry."

"It's fine," Oliver countered, clearly amused, "Go ahead."

Before he could second guess it, Ryder spit it out. "What happened with you and my dad?"

This time, the king's easy smile faded though. There was a faraway look in his eyes, like the question had brought him back to a single moment. "I'll admit in my youth, I had a tendency to react emotionally," Oliver began, "I'll never contend that I've been a perfect king or person. But outside of that, Ryder, I think you should talk to Alaric about it."

In a clear sign that the conversation was over, Oliver stood, and Ryder reluctantly joined him. He hesitated when they reached the door though. He realized that another question might be pushing his luck, but he'd always been one to toe the line anyway, so he blurted out, "Do you think I could stop by and see Raina before I go back to Pacifica?"

Any tension dispersed, and Oliver smiled. "Sure," he agreed, "I didn't even think to offer. I can have Jonathan show you to the Selected's floor, if you'd like, but it's just straight down the stairs and to the left."

"No need to bother Jonathan," Ryder countered quickly, "Thanks for, uh, all of this." He gave one more awkward bow and disappeared, hurrying past the enormous Captain of the Guard.

His intention was to follow Oliver's directions explicitly for two reasons: first, so he didn't get lost in the enormous maze of a castle; and second, so there was no reason that Jonathan found him snooping around in some place he wasn't supposed to be. But his plans soon changed when he noticed a figure tucked into a little window alcove on the third floor. As he squinted and realized precisely who it was, his face lit up. She wasn't dressed in her usual heels and jumpsuits, and a pair of glasses perched on her nose as she flipped through a book, but it was definitely her.

"Fancy meeting you here," he grinned as he strolled towards the window.

When Calli saw him, for the slightest moment Ryder thought he saw happiness flash across for her face. But it was soon replaced by her usual exasperation, and she quipped, "This is why you're not supposed to feed stray animals—they follow you home."

"Hilarious," smirked Ryder as he fell onto the bench next to her. "What are you reading?"

She tried to hide her book, but Ryder caught it. "' _A Fire Burns_ '?" Ryder laughed as he examined the cover. "I'm genuinely surprised, Gauge. A mechanical engineer who can shut down misogyny in a second but reads trashy romance novels in her spare time."

"They're not trashy," she countered as she snatched the book back from him, "Just…"

He waited for her to provide another description, but after a moment, she rolled her eyes. "Okay, they're a little trashy," she allowed with a begrudging smile.

"And here I took you for a Tolstoy or Dante kind of girl," smirked Ryder.

She laughed. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, but definitely not. If you want to have a rousing conversation about literature, Kingsley's the go to, definitely not me," she noted. "But alright, judge-y, what's your favorite book?"

"Sorry," declared Ryder, "that's level 2 friendship stuff. I don't know if you're ready for it."

Calli looked hesitant but curious. "What's included in level 2?"

"You know, actually responding to my text messages," he pointed out. He tried to sound lighthearted, like he was joking, but it did actually disappoint him whenever he checked his phone and found that Calli had ignored him once more.

Calli laughed. "Ryder, last night you texted me a Shrek meme at 1 AM."

"Yeah, and it was hilarious," he huffed. "I can't believe I didn't even get a 'lol' or an emoji."

While she normally might've rolled her eyes at anyone else's complaint, she couldn't quell the smile this time. "Sorry," she replied. "I'm a notoriously bad texter. People usually know just to call me. But not about Shrek memes at 1 in the morning."

"Duly noted," grinned Ryder.

"What are you doing here anyway?" Calli asked. "You didn't hunt me down just to scold me about Shrek memes, did you?"

Ryder laughed. "Not this time," he allowed, "I actually had a meeting with the King."

Calli's forehead wrinkled in surprise. "Really?"

"Guess he just wanted to scope out all the new Illéas in town," he explained. With a bitter chuckle he added, "Can't say I really blame him. He doesn't have the best track record with us."

Calli paused for a second before she reached out and took his hand, surprising Ryder. "He has bad history with Regan and Marid," she corrected him, "That's very different from you and Raina and your dad."

Before she could realize that she was holding his hand, Ryder laced his fingers with hers. "Thanks," he replied, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips, "Some people don't really care about that distinction."

"I do," Calli declared, "and if I know Oliver—and I think I do pretty well—he does too. So don't beat yourself up or anything. Not about this, at least. Your terrible taste in memes, on the other hand—"

"I can't listen to this blasphemy," Ryder declared as he stood, "If you're about to insult Shrek, this conversation has gone far enough, Miss Gauge."

She giggled and rolled her eyes at him. "Are you headed back to Pacifica?" she asked. He couldn't tell if she actually sounded a little disappointed, or if he just hoped that he heard a hint of wistfulness in her voice.

"I actually got the okay to stop by and say hi to Raina," he explained, "but now that you distracted me, I sort of forgot how to get there."

"Excuse you," laughed Calli, "I didn't distract anyone. I was just sitting here minding my own business when my reading time got interrupted." She closed her book and sighed dramatically. "I _suppose_ I can do my good deed of the day and take you to Raina though."

"Oh yeah," Ryder noted, "I forgot that you guys are basically neighbors."

Calli nodded, and he held a hand out to pull her up from the cozy seat. "I appreciate your service immensely, Miss Gauge," he joked as she led him through the palace.

"You better," Calli laughed. She paused outside a door that looked exactly the same as the last twenty they'd passed. "This is it."

"Oh." He'd never felt so disappointed to be about to see his sister, because it meant saying goodbye to Calli. She seemed like she was biting back a frown as well. "Well, I'll see you at Pacifica on Tuesday?"

Calli nodded. "Mack and I decided we're taking you and Finn to the taco place this week," she declared.

"I look forward to it," grinned Ryder. "Thanks again, Cal." She gave him a small wave before she retreated down the hall, and Ryder turned to knock on the door.

Before he could though, a buzz in the pocket of his jeans distracted him. He fished his phone out, assuming it was probably Finn demanding to know how things had gone or instructing him to tell Raina that he said hello. But he was pleasantly surprised when it was a name that he had yet to see send him a text message.

 _Calliope Gauge: This is me initiating level 2 friendship. Now fave book – spill._

He read the message a few times—like his eyes almost didn't trust that it was real. It seemed a little ridiculous, but the simple text message had caused an excited acrobatic performance to commence in his stomach. He typed back his reply quickly: _Harry Potter. Used to read it to Rainy. I have voices for the characters & everything._

Not expecting her to respond now that she'd gotten her answer, he locked his phone and was prepared to return it to his pocket when it buzzed once more. And the words on the little screen fully solidified his place on cloud nine. In addition to a laughing emoji, she'd written: _I have to see this sometime_.

Calliope Gauge and the army of butterflies that seemed to accompany her were really going to get Ryder in trouble.

* * *

Nolan was having a weird day.

It had started as soon as breakfast that morning. He'd decided to eat privately with Lady January Greenwood in the gardens, and she'd been sweet and lovely. But after she turned the conversation to her ex-boyfriend for the fourth time in the hour they spent together, he realized that there was little use in keeping someone so clearly in love with someone else at the palace.

It was his first elimination since the introductory day, and he had mixed feelings about it. Part of him realized that it took him another step closer to narrowing down the pool—which was terrifying and exciting in itself—but the sad look on January's face also made him feel awful.

So, in search of a distraction, he'd tried to find his father to see if he needed help with anything. Since the Selection's commencement, Nolan had found his workload to be extremely light. He wasn't sure if it was because his father was purposely trying to give him time, or if most of the issues facing the country at the moment were so sensitive that Oliver was personally dealing with them, though he had an uncomfortable feeling it was the latter.

But he never even got to see his father, because when he arrived at Oliver's study, Jonathan was at the door and informed him that Oliver was in a meeting. Usually, Oliver would stop any engagement if told that Nolan needed to speak with him, but this time, Jonathan just gave him an apologetic shake of his head, so Nolan had sulked away.

He found himself in Lea's room where she and Alex were playing a game of Scrabble, which was always entertaining since Alex was a horrendous speller. But Nolan hardly had the chance to make fun of one of Alex's plays when Lea suddenly remembered she had a bone to pick with her brother. "Are you still avoiding Raina Illéa?" she had demanded.

He hadn't even bothered to pretend he wasn't evading her. Truthfully, he was embarrassed. She probably thought he was ridiculous after seeing him in the clutches of his anxiety. "Maybe?" he'd responded.

"You're being unfair," was Lea's declaration. "And you're making her feel terrible."

Which was why Nolan was currently dragging his feet down the Selected's hall. If he'd known that Raina was feeling bad because of the way he'd evaded her for the last two weeks, he would've spoken to her sooner. He hadn't meant to upset her, of course. But he was also afraid that he would look into her sweet hazel eyes and see judgment for something he couldn't control.

He took a good five minutes to prepare himself: straightening his shirt, cracking his knuckles, taking deep breaths, and checking to make sure his medicine was in his pocket. Once he felt adequately prepared, he knocked on the door and waited.

The maid that answered the door looked surprised to see him. "Is Lady Raina available?" Nolan asked politely.

He'd anticipated a quick affirmation, but the maid hesitated. "Lady Raina has a guest, Your Highness," she admitted.

"Oh." Of course she did. He shouldn't have expected anything else considering the pattern of his day. "Well, perhaps you could just let her know that I'd like to speak with her, if she has a moment?"

The maid let him inside before she disappeared onto the balcony to speak with Raina. While he waited, Nolan glanced around. Although he'd technically approved all of the fabrics and decorations for the Selected's rooms, he'd yet to see one in person.

They were a medium size, much smaller than his own quarters but still comfortable. Each room featured the same queen sized bed with a canopy, a couch, a desk, and a vanity, but as he glanced around, he noticed that there were touches of Raina in the room. A pair of pointe shoes were discarded on her couch, their ribbons delicately wrapped around them; a bible laid open on her desk, next to a photo of Raina with Alaric and two other men that Nolan didn't recognize; and a large sweatshirt that (for some reason) said 'Likely Fire Department' was draped over the chair.

Raina reappeared behind her maid a moment later, a shy but jovial smile alight on her delicate countenance. She wore a flowery dress with a full skirt that fell to her knees, and her dark hair was pinned back from her face. She looked lovely, but Nolan's attention was more focused on the man that followed behind her.

The initial thing that Nolan thought of when he saw the man was the first time that he'd read about Adonis in Greek mythology. Although Nolan had never felt like he was particularly insecure about his appearance, this guy made him feel like a child. He had to be at least 6'2", had perfect blonde hair that looked both tidy and effortless, piercing blue eyes, and a physique that was more flawlessly sculpted than the classical statutes he and Lea had seen the last time they'd visited Italy.

As he examined the man, he had two thoughts (the first: _are you kidding me_ ), but it was the second that concerned him more: what on earth was this man doing in Raina's bedroom?

Nolan crossed his arms over his decidedly less well-developed chest and glared. "Lady Raina." His voice was much colder than it might've been a few minutes ago, and it clearly surprised both Raina and her guest, whose perfect face shifted into a scowl of his own.

Raina seemed nervous as she curtsied. "Your Highness."

Nolan's glare turned to the man. Even if he was the physically inferior specimen, he reminded himself that this was his home, and he was a prince. He was in charge. "I wasn't aware that the Selected were allowed male visitors," he noted, his suspicion evident in his voice, "particularly without royal approval."

Raina started to respond, but the man cut her off. "Oh, don't worry," he quipped, "The king knows. He's still in charge around here, right?"

Nolan made a mental note to demand to know what in the world his father was thinking by approving such attractive guests for the Selected. "Yes," Nolan seethed, his teeth gritted together, "However—"

He only had a moment to feel irritated with his father though, as the man recaptured Nolan's ire when he put an arm around Raina's shoulders and pulled her to his side. "Just visiting my little Rainbow," he noted as he kissed the top of her head.

As he tried to take a deep breath to control his reaction, Nolan had the sudden realization that he was jealous, which seemed ridiculous. His only interaction with Raina had been mortifying. Why _should_ he care if she had some perfect, arrogant, stupid, Herculean boyfriend?

"Rainbow," Nolan repeated. He hated nicknames. "How clever. Well, then—"

He was surprised when Raina cut him off, sounding a little frantic. "Your Highness, this is Ryder," she explained, "my brother."

Her brother.

Nolan exhaled a tense breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding in. As soon as he muttered, "Oh, thank god," Ryder burst into laughter, and Raina cracked a smile.

But the relief was quickly replaced with embarrassment when he realized what a dumb mistake he'd made. "Sorry," he muttered. The princely part of him that was hyperaware that Ryder hadn't bowed to him was beginning to get on his nerves, so he held his hand out to the other man. "Nolan," he introduced himself, "Uh—pleasure to meet you."

Ryder looked amused, but he gave Nolan a firm handshake in return. "Good to meet you, NoNo," he replied easily.

"Ryder," Raina gasped, her hands jumping to cover her mouth.

Ryder looked confused by his sister's distress. "What?"

"You can't call him NoNo _here_ ," she pointed out.

Nolan's mouth twitched as he listened to Raina scold her older brother. She also made it sound like Ryder frequently called him 'NoNo' outside of the palace, which he found kind of hilarious. He'd never considered that the people might casually call him anything less than His Royal Highness Prince Nolan in everyday conversation. "It's fine," Nolan chuckled. Ryder stuck his tongue out at Raina.

"What brings you to Angeles today, Ryder?" Nolan asked, trying to divert the conversation so Raina didn't look so distressed.

"I'm always in Angeles," Ryder explained, "I'm stationed at Pacifica."

"Oh," nodded Nolan, "Thank you for your service."

Ryder laughed. "I haven't served much yet, but thanks," he shrugged. He pulled Raina into his side again. "But yeah, just in the neighborhood, and your dad was nice enough to let me check on my little Raindrop."

Although it made him feel a little callous when he realized it, he hadn't thought that the Selected might be missing their families or feeling homesick. While he was close with his own family, he was often away from them for extended periods of times in order to fulfil his royal duties. He'd just spent an entire summer in Sahara, after all. "Right, you must miss each other," he mused.

"Yeah, we're sort of the Three Amigos back home," Ryder admitted, "Well, and Vlad, but he's an unofficial member." Nolan wasn't sure who 'Vlad' was, but Raina gave her brother a poke in the side with her elbow and told him to be nice.

Despite their easy teasing of each other, it was clear that Ryder and Raina were close, and Nolan tried not to pat himself on the back too much when he came up with a brilliant idea. "I'm not sure if you were aware, but my birthday's coming up," he began.

"Well, it _is_ a national holiday, so I had an inkling," Ryder interjected with a chuckle.

Nolan ignored him, although he did smile at the quip. "There's a big party Saturday, and a lot of royal guests will be there, along with all of the Selected. Would you want to come?" he offered.

Raina's face lit up, and she eagerly turned to her brother. "You have to come, Ryder!" she declared. "Oh, my gosh, could you bring Fifi too?"

Ryder glanced at Nolan, who shrugged his approval. 'Fifi' sounded like a pet to him, but considering that Ryder had dubbed him 'NoNo', he was trying to keep an open mind. "Thanks, man," Ryder grinned, and Nolan had a feeling that his invitation had garnered him a fair amount of brownie points with both Raina and her brother. Ryder declared that he and Fifi would see them next Saturday, and Raina hugged her brother goodbye before he left the pair alone.

Without Ryder, Nolan suddenly felt nervous to be alone with Raina again. The last time they'd found themselves in such a situation, it hadn't exactly ended well for him. "Um, I was originally coming to apologize," Nolan admitted.

Raina seemed genuinely confused. "For…?"

Nolan shifted uncomfortably. "Our first meeting was not ideal," he admitted, "I don't know if it's because I'm the crown prince or just some personal failing that I'd deal with if I were a normal person, but I find it difficult to manage things sometimes. But most of the time I can at least delay such a response until I'm in a private location. Aside from my family, no one's ever seen something like that happen to me, and I intend to keep it that way moving forward."

"Nolan…" She paused, realizing that she'd used his first name. "Uh, Your Highness—"

"Nolan is fine," he offered, the sound of her voice saying his name eliciting a flutter of butterflies in his stomach.

She smiled before she continued. "I promise I'm not going to tell anyone," she insisted, "I just want you to know that… well, I'm here for you."

He usually didn't like to rely on people, but he smiled nonetheless. "I appreciate that," he admitted. "And if I've made you feel bad in the last couple of weeks because we didn't talk about this sooner, I apologize. It was nothing that you did."

He expected her to thank him for the reassurance, but she looked hesitant, instead fidgeting with a diamond cross that he'd notice she wore daily. "Can I show you something?" Raina finally asked.

"Sure," shrugged Nolan.

She crossed to her desk and pulled a piece of paper from one of the drawers. When she handed it to Nolan, he realized it was a calendar. The days weren't numbered in accordance with the current month and instead just showed 1-21. On each day, a brief sentence was written. "What's this?" he asked.

When she spoke, the explanation came in a rush, like she was nervous about his reaction. "I've done a lot of research since… well, just lately. I'm not a doctor or therapist, of course, but from what I've read, there are a lot of ways to try to manage anxiety aside from therapy and medication. I just wanted to help if I could, somehow."

As Nolan examined the calendar, he saw that each day said something like "try breathing exercises" or "write in a journal." They were little things—certainly nothing that would cure him of his anxiety permanently—but they sounded calming and not like anything that he would feel overwhelmed by.

More than that, the fact that Raina had put time into trying to help him after seeing his panic attack meant a lot. He didn't share his struggles with a lot of people. His friends had tried to help him over the years, and Aunt Presley worked with him in therapy, and his parents were always there for him, but he'd known Raina for a matter of days, really.

Yet for some reason, she cared, and that knowledge made something in his chest tighten with an emotion that he couldn't quite decipher.

"Thank you, Lady Raina," he finally said when he could tear his eyes away from the paper to look at her. Her dainty frame visibly relaxed.

"I hope I haven't overstepped," she offered. She still sounded a little nervous, like she hadn't figured out how to take his response yet.

"Not at all," Nolan assured her, "I actually… I really appreciate this."

"Good." Her face eased into a wide, warm smile, the kind that reached her eyes and made them sparkle with happiness. "I hope it helps. Thank you for coming to talk to me—and for inviting Ryder to your birthday."

"Of course," nodded Nolan. "Well, I'll, uh, see you around then?"

Raina nodded, looking more excited than she had since their initial meeting.

He turned towards the door but paused before he reached it. Half of Nolan demanded that they leave immediately. As a whole, it had been a successful interaction. Nothing embarrassing had happened, and his sense of self-preservation was desperate to get out of there before he changed that.

But another part of him—a part that felt unfamiliar and new to the prince still—stopped him. His hand rested on the door knob, but he made no effort to turn it. With a deep inhale, he turned around. "So, I'll see you tomorrow?" he asked.

Raina, who had wandered back to her desk and started to flip through her Bible, looked confused when she met his gaze. "You will?"

"It appears we have an appointment," he reminded her with a wave of the calendar that she'd constructed. "I'd feel a little silly…" he glanced down, "ah, yes, coloring on my own."

There was a moment of hesitation where Raina stared at him and Nolan regretted not going with his flight instinct. But then the lovely face broke into an excited smile. "I'd love to join you tomorrow," Raina replied.

He was unsure of how much he should push his luck, but the careless part of him—that's what he was categorizing it as, until it proved itself an asset instead of a danger—nudged him forward. "Perhaps the day after as well?" he suggested. He referred to the schedule again. "Breathing exercises on one's own sound…"

"Lonely," concluded Raina. Nolan nodded his agreement. "I'd love to join for any day," she offered warmly. After a slight pause she added, "Um, except maybe not for the day that suggests a bubble bath."

Nolan blushed and gave a nervous laugh. "Definitely not," he agreed. They decided that they would start the morning together for the next couple of weeks at 8:30 before they headed to breakfast together at 9, and armed with their new plan, Nolan felt triumphant when he finally did leave.

As he wandered from the Selected's hall, he was so distracted by his examination of the plan that Raina had put together for them—for _him_ , really—that he didn't even notice Kingsley until he was close enough to wave a hand over the paper. "Earth to Nolan."

The prince jumped, pulling the paper back towards his body like he was afraid his cousin was going to grab it. But that was more something that Bayer would do, and Kingsley just arched a quizzical eyebrow. "Everything alright?" he asked. "You look… distracted."

"Fine," Nolan insisted as he tried to discretely fold the paper and tuck it into his pocket. Kingsley had the decency not to push the subject. "Uh, so, what's up?"

"Aunt Kaitlyn and I are going hiking," the older boy explained, gesturing to his workout clothes. "I just wanted to find you first because earlier Dad said that he had to go to Pacifica to bring Ryder Illéa to the palace."

"Oh. Yeah, I met him already," Nolan nodded. "I had to talk to Raina, and he was there."

Although he normally wasn't one for gossip, Nolan could see the curiosity in Kingsley's face. "What'd you think?"

Nolan shrugged. "He seems fine to me. I invited him to our party."

Kingsley nodded thoughtfully. "Did he, you know, mention Calli at all?"

"I talked to him for all of five minutes," admitted Nolan, "but no? Why?"

Kingsley shrugged. "Just something Dad said that's made me… curious."

"Look, Kings, while I know you try really hard to keep this mysterious, brooding demeanor up, you're going to drive me crazy if you keep being so vague," Nolan sighed. "What's going on?"

His cousin rolled his eyes before he explained, "It's just something that Dad said when we were playing basketball with Uncle Oliver the other day." Nolan tried to repress the pang of jealousy that sprung up in his chest, since he'd rarely seen his father for more than five minutes since the Selection had started. "I guess General Gauge told your dad that he was concerned about how close Calli and Ryder are getting, and Dad sort of laughed and said, 'Those Illéas just can't stay away from the Selected, can they?' It made Uncle Oliver madder than I would've thought."

Any jealousy was forgotten as Nolan's dark eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What's that supposed to mean?" he wondered. "Alaric Illéa's wife wasn't a member of the Selection."

Another shrug from Kingsley. "Maybe Dad wasn't talking about Alaric's wife," he pointed out. "I was just wondering if maybe General Gauge was being paranoid though. You know how he can be overprotective, especially where Calli is concerned."

"She hasn't mentioned anything to me," admitted Nolan, "and neither did Ryder. I mean, it wouldn't be the worst thing though, would it?"

"She's in your Selection, Nolan," Kingsley reminded him, "It would be treason if there was something going on."

"But she's not _really_ in the Selection," protested Nolan, "and besides, Dad told me he let girls leave if they didn't want to be there during his Selection, so if it came down to it, I could probably let her withdraw."

"Yeah," nodded Kingsley, though he didn't look any less concerned.

But he didn't have much time to continue the conversation, because Xander Seymour approached the boys from the stairs. "Sorry to interrupt," Xander smiled, "but your fathers are both looking for the two of you."

Nolan and Kingsley exchanged a confused look. "Is everything alright?" Kingsley asked.

"Oh, yeah," chuckled Xander, "Didn't mean to scare you. We just have a royal visitor."

"A visitor?" Nolan frowned. He hadn't been aware that they were expecting anyone, which was certainly something that his father tried to keep him in the loop about usually. "Who?"

"Princess Imani," Xander answered.

The nervousness that had been waiting in the wings in Nolan's chest quickly disappeared and was replaced by an enthusiastic relief. Of all the potential royal visitors, Imani was one of the most welcome. The Saharan princess and heir to the throne was always one of Nolan's favorite people to encounter through his royal obligations. Only a few years older than he was, Imani was undoubtedly one of the smartest people he'd ever met, and she handled her role as heir with a grace and natural skill that Nolan idolized.

But in his excitement, Nolan didn't notice that although Kingsley trailed after he and Xander, his cousin's entire demeanor had changed. It turned out that not everyone in the palace was as excited as Nolan was to greet Princess Imani.


	11. 104 Days Before

**Author's Note:** Hello, all. Still dying in preparation for finals, so please forgive my slow updates. I was a little disappointed with the number of reviews I got last chapter. They really do make my day, and I love hearing your thoughts, predictions, and feedback. Also, I want to write characters whose creators seem interested in their arcs :) I mean, it won't win the story for you since I've already decided that, but just something to keep in mind. That's all, enjoy this chapter :D

* * *

Chapter Ten: 104 Days Before

After two weeks in the palace, Rhiannon was exhausted.

Not physically. In fact, physically, she could feel the tension and pent up energy in her body, coiled tightly around neglected muscles and causing her to feel jumpy.

It wasn't that the Selected were being overworked in any way. In fact, when Nolan wasn't around and they didn't have an official duty, like being present for _The Report_ , they were mostly left to their own devices. They were free to spend time together in the Women's Room or wander common areas of the palace or grounds or even languish in their own rooms on the second floor.

But the amount of free time they had was _exhausting._ It meant that Rhiannon had to be _on_ constantly. For the most part, the girls had separated into their little cliques. There were the odd ones, like Raina, Cheryl, and Haven, who were so different but still seemed to enjoy each other's company. But some were so predictable that Rhiannon had tried not to roll her eyes when she noticed them, like Safiya and Persephone. Of _course_ the famous actress and model would flock to each other. Occasionally they were so revolutionary as to include the gorgeous heiress Isadora in their group as well.

But Rhiannon had never been the best at making friends. She was nice to the girls, she supposed, treating them with the same vapid, ingenuine politeness that she regarded most people with, but she wasn't there to make friends. There were some that she didn't find terrible, like the k-9 officer Jay even though she made the worst jokes or Simone, who was an artist and had a nose ring that Rhiannon liked. But even around the ones that didn't make her want to bang her head against one of the gilded walls, she didn't feel any inclination to try to engage with them beyond the surface level.

The worst part of their free time was it meant they were available for history and etiquette lessons with Nolan's aunt, Princess Celine, which Rhiannon thought was a dumb way to characterize 'free time.' Never in her life had she opted to spend leisure time studying, and she didn't see the point in turning over a new leaf now. Besides, academic learning had never come easy to her. The fact that it was a princess versus a public school teacher droning on about past rulers, wars, and treaties didn't make it any better.

So mentally, Rhiannon was exhausted. She was constantly playing a character, the perfect Selected Lady Rhiannon Thatcher. Granted, she supposed it wasn't that different from her life outside the palace, but this time it was on a larger scale, and the stakes couldn't have been higher. This wasn't some rich guy who could ease her family's financial struggles. It was the _prince_. If she won him, there wouldn't be any struggles ever again.

But despite all of this, after two weeks, she just wanted to be messy Rhi. She was tired of pink and fluffy skirts and stupid giggles when she didn't find anything funny at all. She was tired of makeup and batting her eyes and flipping her hair and pretending not to be bored out of her mind.

Which was why, as risky as it was and as much as she resented being up so early, she was currently sneaking through the palace at six AM. She'd recycled the workout clothes she'd worn to her Pilates session with Princess Lea—one of the few things she'd actually enjoyed at the palace—and a pair of boxing gloves that she'd brought from home were tucked under her arms. She hadn't specifically asked if the palace gym was one of the areas the Selected had access to, but Rhiannon had always been more of a "do now and ask permission later" kind of person anyway.

Like most things that she'd encountered at the palace, the gym was incredible. When she stepped inside, the first thing that she noticed was an entire wall was glass, providing a view of the grounds and the slowly lightening morning sky. There were treadmills, weights, punching bags, machines, and—to Rhiannon's delight—a boxing ring. It was basically any athlete's dream.

She dropped her bag near one of the treadmills as she began to stretch her long, lithe limbs. Her father had trained athletes all his life, and while Rhiannon had always been raring to jump into the ring and get going, he'd always drilled into her how important her warmups were. When she felt fairly loosened up—as loose as she could with all the repressed energy bouncing around inside of her—she grabbed the headphones that her maids had procured for her, the palace provided cell phone, and turned the music up as she set the treadmill to a challenging speed and incline.

Although she felt a little more winded than she might have a few weeks ago since she hadn't worked out since she'd arrived in Angeles, she felt more comfortable than she had in fourteen days. She'd excitedly composed a workout playlist the night before—she'd never had a cell phone capable of such things, as she couldn't afford it back in Belcourt and was a little impressed—and the loud, upbeat songs empowered her to push through the sweat that soon began to dampen her tank top and the breathlessness that her lungs struggled against.

Part of her was annoyed when the treadmill entered its automatic cool down period after a half hour, but she'd carefully scripted her morning workout to make sure that she had enough time to spend with the bags and perhaps some weighted exercises as well, so she didn't extend her run. Instead, she paused to gulp some water and tore off her tank top to dab the sweat from her face before she hopped off the machine.

But when she turned around, she stumbled in surprise and not because her legs were tight from her warmup. She begrudgingly dug up a perfect, ladylike smile despite her disheveled appearance and tried to curtsy, which was both easier since she was wearing sneakers instead of heels and harder because her quads did not appreciate the movement. "Your Highness."

In a not very gentlemanly response, Bayer's eyes raked over her exposed torso. "Lady Rhiannon."

An unsavory mixture of disappointment and irritation flooded her as she held Bayer's impertinent gaze. He was dressed in shorts, a t-shirt, and sneakers, ready for a morning workout as well. As much as she hated conceding anything—especially a gym as beautiful as the palace's—she ordered herself not to scowl and instead mustered up the sweet mask that men loved to see. "I'm so sorry if I've impeded you at all in any way," she offered as she discreetly tried to toe her boxing gloves deeper into her workout bag. "I'll be out of your way now."

Bayer's eyebrows—very well groomed for a man, she noted—knit together as he brushed past her. "Why?" he asked. He didn't bother to look at her as he tossed a water bottle and his cell phone onto the tray of the treadmill. "Don't let me stop you."

Rhiannon hesitated. It felt a little like a trick, like something she knew she shouldn't be doing. "Uh—are you sure it isn't improper…?" she asked.

Bayer was busy sticking his headphones into his ears, and for a minute, her temper flared as it seemed like he was going to ignore her question. But before he turned the machine on, he glanced over his shoulder at her. "They told me not to touch, Lady Rhiannon," he pointed out, "My uncle and cousin said nothing about looking though."

Rhiannon had a fair amount of experience with entitled rich kids, but Bayer's impudence still surprised her so much that her tentative, fake smile morphed into an insulted, open-mouthed glower before she could help herself. If he noticed, he didn't comment on it though, instead turning his own amused face forward as he began his workout.

While the shy wallflower that she tried to portray likely would have slunk away from the French prince's brazenness, the euphoria from her run had disappeared, and she refused to end her work out on such a low note as being ogled by someone like Bayer. So instead, she just decided to turn to the weights and hope that he left soon so that she could get in a little boxing before she had to leave to get ready in time for breakfast.

She'd never been particularly fond of her body type, something that she reflected on as she watched herself in the mirrored wall behind the weight rack. While she was thin and an average height, it was easy to see the lines and definition of muscles under her tan skin.

It wasn't that she hated her muscles. No, she supposed she must've liked them to an extent, as she worked hard for them. She certainly liked feeling strong and powerful. But _men_ didn't like them, and they didn't go with the helpless, soft image that she worked so hard to portray. She couldn't count how many times someone had been intimidated by how fit she was. It really was a pity that the rich ones always seemed to have such fragile egos.

As she worked out different muscle groups, she surreptitiously glanced in Bayer's direction every so often to try to determine whether he seemed close to leaving. She didn't appear to be in luck, though, because similarly, after he finished his treadmill workout, he too moved towards the weighted machines. She tried to ignore her disappointment and channel it into her workout instead, adding more weight to challenger herself and hopefully chase away the irritation at her royal company.

Since he didn't speak to her, she assumed that he was ignoring her until she laid down under the bench press and looked up to see him lingering near her head. Her first instinct was to demand what the fuck he was doing, but she channeled a dazzling smile instead. "Is everything alright, Your Highness?"

His face seemed to be stuck in eternal amusement, like life was a big joke to him. She supposed to a prince who had no real responsibilities—and didn't even live in his native country most of the time—couldn't have problems that would elicit any other disposition though. "I'm spotting you," he answered, his tone suggesting that she should have realized it was obvious. "And maybe admiring the view."

She rolled her eyes, her determination to be civil forgotten. "I don't need a spotter," she countered, insulted.

Bayer openly laughed at her. "Fine," he shrugged. He stepped away and picked up his dumbbells, though he kept an eye on her in the mirror.

She tested the bar discretely. Deep down, she would rather the bar crush her esophagus before she asked for help, but she realized that would make it hard to win the Selection and hoped it was a situation she could avoid. It wasn't close to her maximum weight, but she was a little out of practice, and she felt the strain in her arms. The weight of Bayer's gaze was heavy on her as well, and she had to focus all her strength to get through ten reps.

When she barely managed to return the bar to its supports, she pulled herself back into a sitting position. She noticed the gym was more silent—no clanging of Bayer's weights or the loud playback of his music through his headphones—so she glanced around excitedly to see if he had perhaps decided to leave.

Of course, she couldn't get that lucky. When she found him, Bayer was lounging on the floor, looking relaxed as he dug through her gym bag. A mixture of anger and embarrassment bubbled in her stomach, as she realized that she hadn't cleaned the bag since she'd brought it from home. Who knew what he could possibly find in there.

" _Excuse you_ ," she snapped before she could help herself as she hopped off the bench to snatch the bag from him.

Bayer seemed unbothered. "Who's this?" he asked, examining a photograph concealed in a cheap plastic case.

Rhiannon's cheeks burned with the same emotions that were making her feel sick to her stomach. "My family," she explained curtly before she snatched the photo from him.

"I've always found family photos quaint," smirked Bayer. "Uncle Oliver and Aunt Mae insist on them ever year."

She ignored him as she replaced the photo in its usual pocket and furiously tugged a zip up sweatshirt on over her sports bra. Bayer laughed. "Are you mad at me?"

"No, Your Highness," she spat between gritted teeth. "It's just early, and you'll have to excuse my irritability as I haven't eaten yet, and—"

"Oh, cut the bullshit," snickered Bayer. He pulled himself to his feet and grabbed one of her boxing gloves from the gym bag. "You want to hit me in the face right now."

Rhiannon glared at him. "Of course not," she countered, although her expression was in direct opposition with her words.

"You're a terrible liar," he chuckled.

Her eyebrows cut into the bronzed skin of her forehead in disbelief. "I am a fantastic liar," she countered as she tried to snatch the glove back. In an undignified and childish move, Bayer held it over his head, just out of her reach. She crossed her arms. "Seriously?"

"You any good with these things?" he asked.

Rhiannon crossed her arms. "Boxing is a violent sport," she ground out, "I only have them because I heard it was a good workout, but I've found that I can't stomach the brutal barbarity—"

He cut her off with a laugh. She jumped as the hand that wasn't playing keep away with her glove collected one of hers. Bayer didn't speak as he ran his thumb over the calloused knuckles and his fingers held her rough palm. They were her greatest insecurity, the one thing that she couldn't hide no matter how hard she tried. "Oh, yeah," he commented mockingly. "I'm sure you're terrible."

Before she had a chance to struggle between her determination to be a lady and her inner firecracker that, admittedly, did want to punch the French prince in the face, Bayer tossed the glove at her. She jumped again as it collided with her cheek before she caught it. When she looked up, Bayer was sauntering towards the door of the gym. "Can't wait to see you around, _Lady_ Rhiannon," he called over his shoulder.

And later, when she slipped into her usual seat at breakfast between Simone and Ernie, she felt Bayer's gaze on her and had a feeling that he wasn't fooled by the girly, floral dress or the sweet, smiling mask she turned towards the rest of the room.

* * *

103 Days Before

Although he supposed he'd somewhat taken them for granted while growing up, the Selection made Nolan a lot more thankful for the expansive grounds that the palace was situated on. Not only did it provide them with different types of settings—the manicured gardens, a wilder forest, the pond, the pool, sprawling pastures—but it gave Nolan the chance to go on dates out of view of the other Selected.

He'd run into a few issues the last couple of days. Despite the palace's massiveness, he'd realized just how many guests they had been the Selected, Imani and her companions, and the constant stream of visitors that were always cycling in and out of the palace for his father. It was difficult to find an area of the palace that seemed remote or quiet enough for Nolan's liking lately, so he'd turned to the outdoors.

While he had been a little intimidated by a small group setting initially, after his mini golf date he'd realized how efficient such an arrangement was. So, he'd invited three girls that he hadn't gotten to spend much time with, as well as Alex and Lea for back up, to join him on a horseback ride to a picnic that he'd had set up in one of the quiet meadows located off the trails around the palace.

Though he'd felt confident about his date initially, Nolan was a little nervous when he met the girls at the palace. None of the three that he'd invited seemed particularly sporty. Nolan, who had been riding since he was a child, had somewhat forgotten that people weren't trained in horsemanship as a standard requirement. He remembered what a mess it had been the first time they'd taken Alex riding.

Eira, Simone, and Margo all seemed excited to see him though, even if the first two were shying away from the pasture where the horses were being saddled. In contrast, Margo stood at the edge of the corral, gently stroking the muzzle of one of the more curious horses. Lea, who had spent a fair amount of time with Margo given their shared interest in fashion, gave a friendly wave to the brunette girl, though she lingered with Alex and left Nolan to approach the girls first.

"Good afternoon," he greeted them. Three curtsies and a discord of salutations were returned. "Have any of you ever ridden a horse before?" None had, and Alex snorted before he assured them that they were in for an experience. Nolan glared at his friend before he turned a determined look towards the trio and beckoned them into the paddock.

Since Nolan realized that he couldn't help all of them, he decided to linger with Margo, who didn't seem so anxious. Other people's nerves had a tendency to ignite Nolan's own uneasiness, so he opted to let the cooler heads assist Eira and Simone. Margo seemed partial to the horse that had initially approached her while she was still outside of the fence, so Nolan collected his reins to lead him towards the mounting block for her.

"They're so cute," Margo beamed as she petted the horse's silky neck.

Nolan, who'd played polo for years until his princely duties had gotten into the way, had always thought of horses as more athletes than cute pets. "I guess," he shrugged. "I like dogs more as pets, I think."

Margo turned her smile on him. "Pip is very sweet," she added, "Sometimes he sneaks into the Women's Room so we can spoil him."

"Don't go giving him a big head," Nolan cautioned her, "There'll be no living with him. He already thinks he runs the palace."

"Might be too late," giggled Margo.

"Do you have any pets?" Nolan asked. It seemed an easy question while he was busy adjusting the stirrups on the saddle for Margo, but the Selection had taught him just how much he detested small talk.

She nodded. "Just the cutest dog ever named Char," she beamed, "He's a black pug."

Nolan was spared the trouble of responding—which was good because he realized the only response he could think of was "oh" or "cool"—as Margo excitedly stepped into the mounting block. Nolan showed her how to grab the base of her horse's mane along with the reins and the back edge of the saddle in order to hoist herself onto the large bay animal. When she settled herself into the saddle, she looked excited. "This is amazing!" she declared, "I'm so _tall_!"

Nolan laughed as he collected the reins to his own horse, Humphrey, from a nearby groom. With all the other girls having been assisted by the stable hands, Nolan pulled himself into the saddle. He and Lea gave a brief collaborative lesson on the basics, and although the girls looked a little overwhelmed by the instruction, they all nodded when he asked if they were ready.

Since Margo seemed the most comfortable on her horse, Alex, the least comfortable of the non-Selected, rode by her while Lea lingered near Simone, and Nolan matched his horse's pace to Eira's. He hadn't gotten the chance to talk with her much yet, but she looked nervous, although Nolan wasn't sure whether he or the horse were causing this effect.

"So you've never ridden a horse, Lady Eira?" Nolan asked conversationally.

"No, Your Highness," admitted Eira. She paused before she added, "I like trying new things though, so I'm glad that you invited me along."

Nolan was glad to hear that she was approaching it with an open mind. It might've been somewhat hypocritical, but he knew that he wasn't always the first to jump on board when presented with something he'd never tried before or didn't know how to do. "I imagine the Selection would afford a lot of opportunities for that. Are you enjoying your time at the palace?" he pressed.

"Yes," she smiled simply.

She seemed like one of the quieter girls, and although Nolan had originally thought it would be easier for him to connect with the girls that were more introverted, like himself, he found it hard to pull conversation out of them when he too was struggling with his nervousness and awkwardness. So, he simply gave Lady Eira a forced smile before they lapsed into silence.

He'd planned a picnic at Lea's suggestion. He didn't quite like the idea of eating outside or on the ground because of bugs and germs, but Lea had convinced him the girls would appreciate the aesthetic of it. It turned out that his sister was right, as their faces lit up when they saw the set up. A blanket was spread out of the grassy ground with pillows and cushions for them to lounge on. They were placed under the shade of a tree, and there were cups and drinks for the food that had been loaded into the picnic basket connected to Nolan's saddle. The meadow was at the top of a little hill that overlooked the gardens but provided the distance that Nolan had been looking for.

But as they unloaded and started to go through the picnic baskets, the group was mostly silent. Nolan was beginning to get anxious as he thought of the afternoon of small talk that awaited him, and he tried to busy himself with a bottle of kale juice to avoid the inevitable conversation.

Lea seemed to notice the panic building in her brother's eyes. "Okay," she announced, "we're playing a game."

"We don't have anything with us to play a game," Nolan retorted.

"Creativity, dear brother," she chirped. "We'll just play something easy. Have you guys ever played two truths and a lie? It's pretty self-explanatory." Lea gave them a brief run-down of the game in case they weren't familiar with it before she offered to go first in example. Nolan and Alex were instructed that they weren't allowed to guess (since they'd probably be able to figure out Lea's lie between the two of them).

"Okay," Lea began thoughtfully, "I am 5'10", my favorite color is blush, and I want to be an artist."

Nolan tried to keep his expression neutral in response to his sister's lie as the girls considered her statements. Finally, Lady Simone mentioned, "I think artist is the lie. I read somewhere that you were interested in architecture."

"Correct!" beamed Lea. "One point for Lady Simone. Why don't you go next?"

Simone tugged on one of her springy curls as she thought about it. "I have two sisters, I know how to surf, and I check my horoscope every day."

"Please let it be the horoscope," Margo snorted as she took a sip of her drink.

"Nope," countered Simone. "I read it in the newspaper every morning. I like astrology and the zodiac." Margo pursed her lips in a way that made Nolan think she didn't agree.

"Do you really know how to surf?" guessed Alex, although Nolan had a feeling this was true as well. Simone had a laid-back, bohemian kind of vibe that surfing seemed to fit well with.

"No," she countered with a shake of her head, surprising Nolan. "I'm not the biggest fan of the ocean."

Before he could think that it might be rude or invasive, Nolan asked, "Why?" There was a pause as Simone glanced towards him. "Oh, uh, sorry," Nolan offered. "You don't have to answer."

"It's fine," she countered with a chuckle. "It's just too humongous, too deep, and there are too many places for creepy things to hide."

"Thank you!" declared Alex. He turned a triumphant gaze to Lea. "Now will you get off my back about getting scuba certified? Normal people agree: it's terrifying out there." She rolled her eyes.

"What about you, Lady Eira?" Lea offered.

"Uh… okay." She squinted, like she was trying to think really hard. "I want to be a director, I hate chocolate, and I love to read."

The group exchanged curious expressions. Nolan was pretty sure he'd seen that Eira was in film school on her application, and the quiet ones always seemed to be readers, so he tried, "The chocolate one? I mean, who hates chocolate?"

Eira blushed. "Uh, sorry, that one's true."

"Oh." Nolan's face reddened slightly as well. "I mean, yeah, chocolate's just pretty average."

Lea rolled her eyes. "You don't like reading?"

Eira shook her head. "I get too impatient," she admitted, "I'd rather watch a movie."

Lea noticed Nolan's embarrassment at assuming incorrectly, so she captured the group's attention when she turned to Alex and suggested, "Alex, go."

"Hmm. I specialize in pediatric medicine, I have had two girlfriends in my life, and my favorite food is potatoes."

Nolan and Lea decided not to guess since they both knew what the lie was almost instantly, so the girls mulled it over. "Potatoes?" suggested Simone.

Alex looked insulted. "Why wouldn't potatoes be _everyone's_ favorite food?" he demanded. "They're perfect."

Simone laughed and gave an apologetic shrug of her shoulders. "They're just sort of basic."

"Basically perfect, you mean," corrected Alex.

"You don't specialize in pediatric medicine, do you?" guessed Margo.

"Nope," confirmed Alex.

"Is no one else hung up on this second girlfriend?" Lea smirked. "Who's my competition?"

"No competition," Alex assured her, "Unless you want to be jealous of Anna Fellsmith from kindergarten. She kissed me on the cheek behind the rose bushes at recess, and I was so surprised that I fell into them and got cut up by about a million thorns."

Once they stopped laughing at Alex's childhood misfortune, Margo offered to take her turn. "I can speak Spanish, I love rap music, and I have two moms."

"Rap music?" Lea guessed. It was Nolan's first inclination as well. Sweet, peppy Margo didn't seem like the type that would gravitate towards rap. But Nolan didn't either, and he'd often shocked his friends with his musical preferences.

Margo shook her head. "A bit of a guilty pleasure," she admitted.

They eventually determined that it was Spanish—she spoke French instead—and Nolan's stomach did an uncomfortable jump when he realized it was his turn. "Let's see. I've been to ten different countries, my favorite animals are dogs, and I've never broken a bone."

Lea rolled her eyes. "This is so easy."

"Shush," Nolan ordered, "You're not allowed to guess."

"Dogs?" Simone guessed. Nolan nodded his confirmation.

"What is your favorite animal then?" Margo asked.

Before he had a chance to reply, both Alex and Lea supplied, "Cats."

"Don't get him started on cats," Lea instructed. "He's obsessed. He's already stolen Aunt Kaitlyn's, and she's only been back for three weeks."

Nolan glared at his sister. "French Fry and I have a very special relationship," he explained.

Eira giggled. "Dr. Davis's cat is named French Fry?"

"She got him in France when we were younger, and we thought it was hilarious, so it just stuck," explained Nolan. "But before that she had a cat named Pawnds, so it's really not that shocking."

The game had eased the awkwardness that had stifled conversation before, and Nolan found it easier to chat with the girls as they picked at the food that had been prepared for them. He took some time to spend a little more private time with each of them as well. He found out that Margo, like Kingsley, was adopted when they went to give the horses treats. He and Simone talked about her sisters while she tried to convince him to climb a tree with her. And he found out more about Eira's film school when they took a walk.

It was an easier afternoon than he had anticipated. The girls were easy to get along with once they got past the dreaded small talk, Lea's game providing a good icebreaker.

But when they were all saddled up to return to the stables, Nolan noticed a noise that distracted him. Margo, who had hung back as Lea led everyone back towards the path called, "Are you coming, Your Highness?"

"I'll be along in a second," Nolan countered absentmindedly as he turned Humphrey in the opposite direction. He could hear a heated conversation, and while he normally tried to mind his own business, he realized he recognized the speakers. He dismounted from Humphrey to avoid drawing attention to himself and leaned behind a nearby tree.

Nolan's forehead furrowed as he tried to place the voices. It sounded like Kingsley and Imani, but it didn't make sense to him why they'd be out here alone and why they'd sound so irritated with each other. As far as Nolan knew, Kingsley and Imani had always gotten along. When Imani visited with Mosi and Neema when they were children, the two were always going on adventures and telling Nolan that he was too little to come along (he still resented it to this day).

"You are being ridiculous." Imani's accent always made her words clipped and carefully articulated, but now there was a clear edge of anger in her voice.

Kingsley gave a derisive snort. "My humblest apologies, Your Imperial Highness," he returned sarcastically.

"Stop that."

"Why? It's what you are."

Nolan peeked around the edge of the tree. He'd never been one for eavesdropping—that was much more Bayer, Orlando, and Lea's speed—but his confusion kept him rooted to the spot. Imani was dressed casually yet fashionably in a pair of camel colored pants and a crisp white blouse that offset her deep skin. A brightly colored head scarf concealed her closely cropped hair, and the flawless complexion held no makeup. But the set of her face was hard, like she was struggling to maintain the calm demeanor that had always seemed second nature to Imani before.

"It's not what I always was to you," Imani pointed out.

Kingsley—who was a different type of casual in workout pants and a t-shirt, his curly hair held back from his face with a hair tie—looked away from her. "That was before."

"I've tried to explain this to you a million times, Kingsley," huffed Imani. "I've called and sent letters and emails, but you won't talk to me."

"What is there to talk about?" Kingsley demanded. He sounded less angry and more pained. "You're Mosi's heir now. You'll be a queen someday."

Imani crossed her arms. "You know it wasn't my choice. But even queens need partners. Why are you being so ridiculous—"

"Because a foreign soldier who was born to a criminal and a drug addict is no partner for a queen."

It took Nolan a minute to realize Kingsley was talking about himself. He'd never realized that Kingsley had sought out his birth parents. And he'd _certainly_ never realized that there was something more than friendship between Kingsley and Imani.

"You _know_ none of that matters to me!" snapped Imani. "And I doubt it would matter to my country. My mother wasn't titled before she married my father."

"No, her father just owned every port on Sahara's western coast," countered Kingsley.

"And your parents are a prince and princess of Illéa!" protested Imani.

"My _adopted_ parents," amended Kingsley. "I'm not eligible to inherit any title or even most of their property. Besides, the fact that I am Illéan is just another complication, Imani."

Humphrey stamped his hoof impatiently, but Imani and Kingsley were too focused on each other to notice. Nolan shushed his horse.

"What does that mean?" Imani demanded as her eyes narrowed into a glare.

"You _know_ what it means," sighed Kingsley. "No one in your father's court is going to want to see you marry a foreign peasant when there are scores of eligible, Saharan nobles. I'm not…" He shrugged, words clearly failing him. "People would talk."

"Not even _my_ entire family is Saharan," pointed out Imani. "One of our ancestors married the queen of Arabia to bring in the east, and my great-great grandfather married a South African princess—"

"Well, I'm not Arabian or South African or _anything_ , Imani," Kingsley declared. "It might not matter to you or me, but it matters to other people. It will matter to every insulted lord in the Saharan court whose son missed out on the chance to be consort."

Imani was silent for a heavy moment. "You've really made up your mind about this, haven't you?"

When Kingsley spoke, he sounded exhausted, like he'd spent a lot of time obsessing over this topic. "I've never wanted to be any kind of ruler," he admitted, "not even as a consort."

Imani's posture changed. She looked defensive. "I'm proud to be my father's heir, even if it's not how I thought things would turn out."

Her newfound formality seemed to have the opposite effect on Kingsley, and he smiled for the first time in their conversation. "You're going to be an amazing queen."

She gave a curt nod and squared her shoulders before she started down the path that led towards the palace. Kingsley stood in silence for a moment longer before he pulled a pair of headphones from his pocket, stuck them into his ears, and then began to jog in the opposite direction, like nothing had happened.

Nolan looked at Humphrey, who was aimlessly munching on a mouthful of grass. "What the heck just happened?" Nolan demanded, completely perplexed and overwhelmed by everything he'd just heard.

This was why he didn't eavesdrop, he decided.

* * *

102 Days Before

Oliver sighed as his eyes scanned the press release that had been put before him for approval. With the war abroad, Imani's arrival in Illéa had raised a lot of questions. It made sense. When Mosi had approached him about sending his heir to Angeles, Oliver had had the same inquiries about Sahara's neutrality in the escalating conflicts. "It's just in case," Mosi had assured the Illéan king. Oliver had agreed to host Imani for as long as necessary, but the action itself made him nervous. He knew he would only ever send Nolan away if it looked like Illéa were about to become an active front.

A knock on the door startled him. "Yes?"

"Your Highness," Anderson, his butler, bowed as he stepped into the study. "Sire, there's someone—"

There was a commotion in the atrium outside Oliver's office, and a moment later, the door swung open again to reveal Jonathan and a ghost from Oliver's past. The man was clearly upset as he argued with Jonathan. "I don't give a _damn_ if he's busy. I'm _going_ to speak to him—"

It had been twenty-three years since Alaric Illéa had stood before Oliver. Much like the king, time had changed the man. The scruff on his cheeks and jaw was tinged with gray now, and his hair was longer, more carefully gelled back. His posture was more confident, like he had grown use to the attention that he couldn't escape because of his last name, but there were deeper lines around his eyes, a stark reminder that life hadn't been the kindest to Alaric.

Oliver hated reflecting on the last time he had seen Alaric, though he'd been reminded of it often lately. Aside from the reminder that Kaitlyn's arrival always brought, he'd discussed it at length with Mae the night that Nolan's Selected had been announced after he realized that Alaric's daughter would be joining them soon.

While time had tempered him, on more than one occasion Oliver had fallen victim to his explosive temper. It had rarely occurred more than when he had still been a naïve crown prince, and perhaps the most unfortunate victim of one of Oliver's outbursts had been Alaric Illéa.

Their friendship had always been precarious. In the back of his mind, Oliver supposed he'd always wondered if he could trust an Illéa. He'd fallen for Regan once only to to experience his first heartbreak. He'd seen his mother struggle with Marid for years. So, while Alaric had seemed safe and unsuspecting, when the Schreave family had been burned by the Illéas once more, Oliver had taken his anger out on Alaric.

He'd spoken with Alaric once since his banishment from Angeles. When Alaric's wife, Rose, was dying of advanced cancer, Oliver had reached out to see if there were anything the palace physicians could do. Alaric had declined, Oliver had offered his condolences, and that was that. Truthfully, there was a lot that Oliver had wanted to say and apologize for, but he figured given the personal tragedy that Alaric was facing—widowed at twenty-four with two young children—it wasn't the time.

And the time never arose after that. Whether it was his pride or just the tenuous relationship that seemed to inherently exist between a Schreave and an Illéa, Oliver had never found the right time to apologize to Alaric. He'd discussed it with his wife and brother at length, both of whom were in support of the idea, but it had never progressed from the confines of Oliver's mind.

Now, Alaric stood before Oliver in the flesh after twenty-three years, and he looked irate.

"It's fine," Oliver assured Jonathan and Anderson. "Leave us."

There was no formality or pleasantries. Before Oliver could say anything further, Alaric seethed, "Leave my children alone."

Oliver was taken aback. People didn't try to give him orders often—or ever, really. "Uh, what?"

"I've done everything you said," Alaric reminded the king. "I resigned from my position at St. Sebastian's, I stayed in Likely, and I left Kaitlyn alone. So, why are you doing this?"

Oliver sighed and fell into the seat at his desk. He didn't invite Alaric to sit, since Alaric seemed prepared to do what he pleased. "Alaric, none of this has been intentional," he pointed out, "It's not like I handpicked Raina for the Selection, and if you didn't want her here, you could've stopped her from entering—"

"And Ryder? What's your excuse there?" demanded Alaric. "Why is he suddenly attending your son's birthday?"

Oliver paused. "Nolan invited him," he explained in hopes that it would deflect the larger question. "I supposed he wanted to get to know Raina's brother—"

Alaric wasn't fooled. "Why was he in the palace in the first place, Oliver?" he demanded. "He's stationed at Pacifica, _not_ the palace."

"Fine," snapped Oliver, his patience wearing thin. A dull ache had formed behind his temples that added to his irritability. "Yes, I wanted to speak with him. With a sudden influx of Illéas to the capitol, it would've been irresponsible of me not to determine what side of the family he favored, considering the trouble that _your_ father and sister have been causing."

Alaric gave a bitter, mirthless laugh. "After all these years, you're _still_ trying to blame me for Marid and Regan?" he scoffed. "Priceless, Oliver, really."

"No," sighed Oliver, "I didn't mean it like that—"

"Leave Ryder and Raina alone," repeated Alaric, his tone cold and dangerous, "I have paid the price for my father and sister's sins. I have sacrificed everything that you ever asked. But I will not stand by and watch you use my children as pawns in this war or your stupid political games."

Before Oliver had a chance to respond though, the door to the atrium outside of Oliver's office opened, and he sighed as he realized he'd forgotten to tell Anderson to deny entry to council members and those of similar clearance. The door to the office swung open a moment later, and when the new party joined them, both Alaric and Oliver froze.

Kaitlyn was dressed for business in a pencil skirt and button up shirt, her caramelly brown hair hanging in loose waves over her shoulders. There was a stack of manila folders balanced in her arms, and her face was turned towards one as she walked. "Oliver, I think that we should put the girls on a multivitamin," she declared as she walked into the room, "Given the current agricultural issues we're having in Belcourt—"

She glanced up, and when she realized who stood before her, she stopped so quickly that she almost slipped in her heels. The movement upset the folders in her arms, and when Alaric stepped forward to help her, she desperately tried to catch them, papers flying. "I'm fine!" she insisted, trying to gather the flurry of records. "I'm sorry, Anderson didn't say you had company—" Her light blue eyes only lightly danced over Alaric as she glanced between the two men, almost like she didn't trust herself to look at him.

Alaric seemed frozen, and although Oliver wasn't exactly sure of what to do, he offered, "Uh, it's fine. Do you want to join us…?"

Finally, Kaitlyn met Alaric's gaze. The blue eyes held each other for what had to have been the longest minute of Oliver's life before she spoke in a voice that she was clearly trying to keep steady. "I'll come back later," she decided. She took a few steps backwards, her eyes still locked on Alaric like she was afraid to leave him but couldn't bear to stay. But then her nose wrinkled in the way that it only ever did before she cried, and she turned on her heel, pulling the door firmly shut behind her.

Oliver and Alaric were silent, their newest disagreement abandoned for the moment. "There have been too many times that I've seen her in pain and haven't been able to do anything about it," Alaric finally declared.

Oliver's eyes jumped to the ring finger where he expected Alaric's wedding band to be. He was slightly surprised to find it clear, and Alaric followed the king's gaze, his own mouth in a hard line. "I didn't deserve my wife," he sighed bitterly.

It wasn't his business—and God knew he had enough to keep him busy for the moment—but curiosity had always been one of Oliver's weaknesses. He offered Alaric a glass of scotch, and the two both fell onto the couch. "When the papers first published pictures of you and Rose, my mother ambushed Kaitlyn with one," Oliver recounted. "She was meeting with all of the Selected to discuss her concerns. You were what worried her about Kaitlyn."

"I expected her to be upset when she saw it," admitted Oliver. "I don't think I realized how much she cared about you until you left."

"Was she?" Alaric asked. His voice sounded fearful, like he was afraid that Oliver would confirm that he had caused Kaitlyn pain.

"She looked my mother squarely in the eye and said that she hoped you were happy, because she wanted you to find happiness, that you deserved it," Oliver remembered, a nostalgic smile tugging at his face.

Alaric didn't look relieved. "Then I don't deserve her either."

The men sipped their drinks in a heavy silence. When he'd reached the bottom of his glass, Alaric began to speak. "I met Rose by chance when I returned to Likely after…" The truthful end to that sentence was after Oliver had thrown him out of the palace after Marid orchestrated a plane crash that had seriously injured Tristan and Isolde, leaving the latter unable to have children. But it was a tense point, so Alaric simply explained it as, "After everything happened."

"It wasn't the best," he admitted, "All the country knew was that I'd been dismissed from my place in your council and was no longer working at St. Sebastian's. When the news about Tristan and Isolde's crash came out, they thought they had to be connected. If people didn't trust me before I left for Angeles, they really didn't trust me once I came back."

"Rose was different though," he countered. "She saw past the name and the whispers. I needed someone, and she was there. Maybe in a way she needed me too. When we met, she was in remission, but she had a close male friend that she'd met through treatment who had died recently, so she was struggling too."

Oliver didn't know what to say, so he just sipped his drink and let Alaric speak. The latter seemed more than willing, and Oliver wondered if he'd ever discussed the complicated situation of his love life with anyone. "Aside from perhaps Kaitlyn, she was the only other person who's ever loved me," Alaric acknowledged, "and I cared for her a lot. But I don't know if I would have married her if we hadn't…" His cheeks flushed deeply. "Well, Ryder was a bit of a…"

Oliver smirked. "It's okay," he assured Alaric, "Bayer was an accident too."

Alaric glared at him. "A happy surprise," he corrected the king. "But after we had Ryder, it was impossible not to love her. Maybe not in the same way that she loved me or in the way that I love Kaitlyn. Rose's mother frequently reminds me that I wasn't worthy of her daughter. She's not wrong."

Oliver's knuckles were white as he gripped his glass. "I think about the day that I told you to leave a lot," he admitted. "I wish I could take it back."

"I don't," countered Alaric. "Before Ryder and Raina, I did probably every morning. But they are the best parts of my life, and I love being their dad." A thoughtful smile turned up the corners of his mouth. "I wouldn't trade them for anything."

Oliver understood. As unlikely as it was, if Mae fell out of love with him and left tomorrow, he wouldn't regret their relationship despite his personal heartache, because he had Nolan and Lea. "You said you love her," Oliver pointed out to Alaric. "Still?"

"I don't think there will ever be a day that I don't," admitted Alaric with a rueful smile. "I still remember the very first day that I met her—when the two of you broke into the monastery in Likely to interrogate me about my involvement with Marid and Regan. She was dressed in all black like a spy and had the fiercest expression on her face even though she was about to pass out because she'd just set her own dislocated ankle."

Oliver laughed at the memory. "God. That seems like a million years ago." He paused. "Did you know then?"

"No," countered Alaric, "although seeing her again was part of the reason I accepted your invitation to Angeles in the first place. Maybe I didn't know what I felt for her yet, but I thought about her a lot after that."

"You know, Alaric," Oliver began, "maybe it's not a coincidence that you both are back in Angeles after all this time. She's not… well, she's never really seriously dated anyone or—"

"She has a life," Alaric retorted, "without me. I don't want to disrupt anything for her. I've followed her career, and she's done amazing things."

"I think she'd trade them all for you," Oliver pointed out.

Alaric smiled sadly. As a testament to just how deeply he did love Kaitlyn, he declared, "I wouldn't ask her to."

His protestation did little to assuage the guilt that Oliver felt about the situation he'd put Kaitlyn and Alaric in twenty-three years ago. "Well, why don't you at least come to the party?" he suggested. "You'll get to see Ryder and Raina, and maybe I'll be able to convince you I'm not some monster who's trying to use your kids."

Alaric considered it for a moment before he gave a hesitant nod. "Can I ask you something?"

"Why not," shrugged Oliver. He and Alaric had already hashed a lot out. One more question couldn't hurt.

"How likely is war looking?" His blue eyes were hard, like he was blaming himself for the actions of his father and sister.

Oliver hesitated. He didn't want to lie to Alaric, but the truth was difficult for him to admit to anyone, even himself. "I've sent an invitation to all of the world rulers, including Nikolai, in hopes that we can meet and work out a resolution," he explained slowly, "but if they don't agree to it or we can't work things out…"

Alaric nodded grimly. "So Ryder and Finn will likely see combat."

The guilt that Oliver felt about Kaitlyn and Alaric was nothing compared to knowing that he could be the one to send millions of young men and women to their deaths. "Not if I can help it," Oliver countered. "I'm trying my best."

The Illéa grimaced, his expression clearly expressing the thought that he didn't voice: against Marid and the Russian power he wielded, Oliver's best might not be enough.


	12. 100 Days Before, Pt I

**Author's Note:** Thank you so much to everyone who was so patient with me through my finals. Luckily, I survived! This chapter was a challenge to write. It is also a part I of a two part sort of thing, so the rest of the birthday will be up next week. Let me know what you thought though, because like I said, I struggled.

 _Also_ , I started another story! I know some of you might not be too happy about that, but let me promise that IWESTS is my priority. I would really love it if you checked out the other though. It's called _Between Thorns_ and has a fairytale/magic element, in addition to being my first male SYOC!

* * *

Chapter 11: 100 Days Before, Part I

The palace was quiet, a perfect representation of the calm before the storm. Although the marble floors gleamed, chandeliers glittered, and the luxurious drapery glided against the walls as warm summer air filled the palace, everything else was still. Not a soul hurried through the halls, and little sound could be heard. The ball had been meticulously organized, and now, the only preparation left was being taken care of behind closed doors.

Even the kitchens were still, enjoying their last reprieve before the chefs arrived to put the final touches on the menu that Nolan and Lea had approved earlier in the week. The only noise was the laborious gurgle of a coffee pot. Already exhausted even though the evening had yet to begin, Nolan sat at an island as Alex brewed them both a well-needed revival.

Nolan had a bit of a love/hate relationship with his birthday, since as a national holiday, it was always highly publicized and the pressure to rise to everyone's—and his own—impossibly high standards was always on. But the frown that creased Nolan's eyebrows as he watched his friend had nothing to do with the ball later that night. Alex, while normally a little high strung, usually dealt with such events much better than Nolan. Today, however, his movements seemed more flustered than usual. "Everything okay?" Nolan asked.

Alex didn't respond as he watched the coffee drip into the pot. "Can I show you something?" he finally asked.

"Sure," shrugged Nolan, a little perplexed.

Alex didn't immediately act, instead waiting until the coffee was done. Only after he'd handed Nolan a mug, collected one for himself, and taken a deep breath did he proceed. Nolan's confusion only grew when Alex produced a small box from his pocket and set it on the island. "Is this my birthday present?" Nolan asked, his eyebrows knit together.

Alex laughed, relaxing slightly. "No," he countered, "It's Lea's."

Nolan collected the small box and popped the lid open. When he saw what it contained, he nearly choked on his coffee. He was speechless as he glanced up at Alex, whose entire presence was a mixture of excitement and apprehension. "Are you serious?" he asked excitedly.

Alex nodded. "I asked your dad and everything. Somehow, I thought that would be the scariest part, but I'm terrified."

"Alex!" Nolan exclaimed as he slid off his stool to pull his friend into a hug. "This is amazing! Don't worry about it. We all know Lea is going to say yes."

The doctor looked immensely relieved by Nolan's reassurance. "Can I ask for a little help?" Alex asked.

"Of course," agreed Nolan, "I'd love to help."

"Just get her outside after the ball?" requested Alex.

Nolan grinned as he thought of the post-party tradition he and Lea had shared for years. "I can do that," he confirmed. His own nervousness had been disregarded, replaced entirely by excitement at the prospect of Lea's birthday gift.

"Thanks, man," Alex beamed appreciatively. "Should we get upstairs? They're probably going to send a search party if we're gone much longer." Nolan agreed, and after Alex had pocketed the box once more, the two made their way to Nolan's parents' room.

Nolan remembered being a little kid and watching his parents get ready for balls. He and Lea hadn't been allowed to start attending them until they were older due to bed time and the like, but they'd always been part of the preparation. They would lounge on their parents' bed in pajamas while Oliver told them stories about all the people that would be coming to visit, or they'd help pick the crown and tiara that would transform them from mom and dad to queen and king.

Their pre-ball parties had grown over the years. When Nolan and Lea were old enough to attend, it meant that all their friends were too, and somehow, over the years, the group had migrated to the king and queen's suite. It was the largest room available, and before any kind of event, it was a safe bet that Bayer could be found sipping scotch with Oliver and Elijah or that Lea would usurp Mae's closet as she vacillated over which jewels to wear with Mae and the queen's closest friends.

This year was no different. Nolan realized he was one of the few holdouts when they stepped in. His sister was seated in front of their mother's vanity, already dressed in a blush pink gown with a wispy flower detail, feathered accents, glittering jeweled embroidering, and a full skirt. Mae stood at her side, the epitome of queenly as always in an embellished gold gown with a draped cape that hung from her shoulders and one of the most impressive gold tiaras in the royal family's collection. The room was nearly full, but Nolan frowned when he noticed that both his father and grandmother were absent.

Mae crossed to kiss his cheek upon his arrival. "It's a good thing you're here," she commented, "We need your expertise to settle the yearly tiara debate."

"Flowers or stars?" Lea demanded of her brother. "Flowers match my dress better, but I love the stars."

For a moment, Nolan felt an odd rush of gratitude. He might've been nervous about the attention that he'd inevitably have to contend with at the ball, but here he was surrounded by family, awaiting an exciting engagement that many of them had been predicting for years, and their biggest problem was which diamond tiara Lea should wear. Anxiety aside, life wasn't too bad.

"Stars, definitely," he decided. Lea gave a satisfied nod and turned back to the mirror to settle the tiara on top of her hair. "Did you grab something for me?" he added, turning his attention to his mother.

"Only your favorite," confirmed Mae with a smile as she collected a black box off the vanity. Nolan opened it and collected the crown that he usually wore from inside. It was a simple gold construction with alternating leaf and point protrusions and the occasional diamond, topaz, or sapphire accent. It had belonged to a Habsburg a long time ago, and while Oliver had been embarrassed of wearing crowns when he was younger, Nolan liked them. They showed that, as monarchs, they were part of a long tradition and history.

"You're going to be wearing more jewelry than most of the girls at the ball," Bayer commented. Nolan turned towards his cousin. Bayer was dressed in a black on black suit, and one of his girlfriends—the tall, leggy, brunette model, Lavinia—clung to his arm. Nolan resisted the urge to cringe when he noticed that Bayer already seemed intoxicated.

"More real jewelry at least," quipped Nolan.

"French Toast is just jealous," Orlando countered with a roll of his eyes. "You look like a boss, Nol."

Nolan straightened the crown a little. "Thanks, Orlando."

Before Bayer could complain about his latest nickname, the doors banged open to reveal Oliver and Eadlyn. Their faces were both carefully constructed into a mask of comfortable cheerfulness, but Nolan wasn't fooled, and he had a feeling that most of the people in the room weren't either.

Before anyone could question it though, Oliver declared, "Everyone ready to get this party started?" and began herding the group out of the room and towards the ballroom. Although his anxiety began to momentarily take over, Nolan tried to make a mental note to interrogate his father about what he and his grandmother had been handling before the ball later that night when the craziness had died down.

One of the times that Nolan found himself most grateful for his sister was when they were being announced for a ball, particularly one thrown in their honor. It made his palms sweat to think about having to shoulder everyone's attention on his own, as his father had when he was Nolan's age. Of course, Oliver had always reveled in attention and probably handled it fine, another stark contrast between father and son that often left Nolan feeling insecure.

As the heralds trumpeted to quiet the room, Nolan tried to keep his posture strong beside Lea. Her hand rested on his arm, like he was offering her support, but she was the real comfort, and he tried to focus on her instead of the hundreds of pairs of eyes that focused on them. "His Royal Highness Crown Prince Nolan Laurent Woodwork-Schreave and Her Royal Highness Princess Leanna Kile Woodwork-Schreave!"

The room erupted into applause, and Nolan tried to focus on not slipping down the stairs rather than the deafening noise as they descended the stairs. Lea smiled and waved perfectly, giving her brother's arm the occasional squeeze when his forced but cheerful expression slipped. They made it down the stairs without incident, and although people probably expected Nolan, the heir, to speak, Lea picked up on the way that her twin had begun to nervously tap his fingers against his leg as he struggled to decide what to say and took the lead.

"Thank you so much to everyone that has been kind enough to join us tonight," she beamed at the crowd, "Nolan and I are both eternally grateful. We hope that you all enjoy yourselves and the celebration this evening." Mae and Oliver led the next applause, and then the attention on the twins lightened immensely as people returned to the party.

"Thanks," Nolan muttered to Lea when the air finally began to move through his lungs easily again.

"Don't sweat it," his sister winked. "You gonna be okay?"

He nodded. "I think I'm just going to grab a snack for now." Lea gave his arm one last reassuring squeeze before she left him. Nolan watched as she crossed the room to Alex and promptly pulled him in for a kiss. They both looked like there was nothing in the world that could make them happier than each other.

As he watched them, he came upon a truly bewildering realization: he wanted something like that.

He didn't have much time to dwell on this news though, because a voice made him jump. "Laurent, huh?"

Murphy stood behind him, a teasing grin on her pixie-like face. She wore a simple red gown that complimented her thin frame, and her usually messy brown hair had been refined into soft waves. She wore more makeup than he'd seen her in yet, but despite her altered appearance, she looked just as comfortable as she did in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. It was the first time he'd found himself alone with her since Mae and Bayer had warned him about lavishing too much attention on one person, and his stomach did a little flip, motivated by an emotion that he had trouble discerning.

"I should've guessed you'd be the one to bring that up," Nolan admitted with a wry smile.

She stopped a nearby waiter, grabbing two flutes of champagne. "I thought you didn't like alcohol," he commented as she handed him one.

"Special occasion," she commented, "and besides, this stops any creepy politicians from _insisting_ I let them get me a drink." She took a sip before she wrinkled her nose in distaste and rested the flute disinterestedly at her side. "Aren't pompous middle names a royal requirement? I gotta say, I'm shocked you don't have, like, twenty and a 'the twelfth of his name' or something like that."

Nolan laughed. "Well, sorry to disappoint, but I'm only the first of my name," he countered, "and the middle name is kind of a family thing."

Murphy raised her eyebrows, clearly interested. "Oh yeah?"

He nodded. "My mom's dad's name was Laurent," he explained, "I never met him, he died when she was still a teenager. So, my middle name is for Mom's dad, and Lea's is for Grandpa Kile."

Murphy inspected him for a long moment—one of those pauses during which he had no clue what she could possibly be thinking—before her lips quirked in a smile. "I like that," she commented. "Can I tell you something cringey?"

"Always," Nolan replied before he'd thought about it too much. Truthfully, he didn't like things that he might get secondhand embarrassment from. But with Murphy, it was hard not to want to hear everything she had to say, even the things that he found exasperating or incorrigible. Most of the time he chalked it up to the curiosity that she inspired in him.

"I'm named after my dad's high school football coach," she declared, the irony of being named for someone involved in the sport that she detested so much clearly not wasted on her.

Nolan nearly choked on his champagne in a failed attempt to suppress his laughter. Murphy's grin widened. "Good to see I can still make you laugh," she commented, "I was almost worried I'd offended your delicate sensibilities too much, considering it's been a week since we talked last."

It was no shock to anyone that knew him that Nolan was terrible at confrontation. It was everything that he hated—uncomfortable, often indecorous, and nerve-racking. Once he'd started spreading his attention more evenly, he supposed he might've avoided Murphy a little more than he had initially intended, if only to escape the awkward conversation that he had somehow now danced right into. "It's nothing you did," he assured her.

"Uh oh," Murphy snorted, "Are you about to hit me with the 'it's not you, it's me'?"

"No," Nolan countered, trying to laugh to lighten the mood.

"Not that I possibly could've done something when you've said less than seven words to me this week," she interjected again.

Nolan firmly forbade his eyes from rolling and betraying his exasperation. "Could you stop talking for two seconds so I can explain?" he demanded.

His forwardness seemed to surprise them both into silence, although Murphy didn't look necessarily off-put by it. "Sorry," he muttered, "I just didn't want people to be mean to you."

To his surprise, she laughed. "What on earth are you talking about?" she demanded.

He flushed at her dismissiveness. "Mom and Bayer said that the other Selected might get jealous since I'd seen you so much," he explained.

His embarrassment slowly morphed to irritation when she laughed again. She took note of his waning patience and pulled herself together enough to declare, "Nolan, I thought you'd noticed I can handle myself."

"Well, yeah," he agreed.

"So, don't worry how anyone else is treating me," she shrugged, "If you wanna hang out, let's hang out."

He paused as he considered her words. After a moment, a tentative grin twisted the Prince's face. "Did… did you miss me?" he asked.

Murphy held up the hand that clutched her champagne. "I didn't say that."

"Sounded an awful lot like that to me," Nolan commented, trying not to let the expression take over his entire face.

"You're making too many assumptions there, Laurent," Murphy declared. Nolan didn't reply, but his fight against the happiness failed, and the beaming expression reached his eyes. "Ugh!" Murphy took an irritated sip of her drink, her face puckering in distaste when she remembered there was alcohol in her glass. "You're impossible," she declared, "so I'm going to go talk to a tolerable human now."

"Nice to see you," he called after her, a goofy smile lighting up his face. She paused to glance over her shoulder at him, and despite the façade of exasperation that she had projected, it made him feel good to see that his content was reflected in her own expression.

As he watched Murphy strike up a conversation with Orlando and his boyfriend, Charlie, he decided he was going to try to feel out some of the other relationships that had seemed promising or that he felt a little confused about. With a sip of the champagne that Murphy had given him for liquid courage, he crossed the room.

"Good evening, Lady Kylee."

Her youthful face lit up when he appeared before her. "Happy birthday!" she beamed in response. "Uh, Your Highness," she added as an afterthought.

"Are you having a good time?" he asked, genuinely curious. He was used to balls—the protocol, the glitz, the obligations. But for the Selected, it was an entirely new experience.

To his relief, Kylee nodded enthusiastically. "Calli introduced me to General Gauge," she supplied, "My dad and brother are both in the military, so it was really surreal but cool. I think Asher—that's my brother—is probably going to be jealous for the rest of eternity now."

"Have you gotten a chance to dance at all yet?" Nolan asked. Regular dancing was the bane of his existence, but he knew he was at the height of princely charm when he was leading a girl through a waltz.

"Not yet," Kylee admitted.

"Would you want to?" he continued. She nodded excitedly and took the hand that he offered to her. The pair made their way towards the dancefloor, and Nolan led her towards the middle, where they could avoid too many curious gazes.

"Do you like your birthday?" Kylee asked, the question catching him a little off guard.

"Uh, yeah," admitted Nolan, "It's okay."

"Do you have a ball every year?" she continued.

"Yep," he confirmed.

She paused as she digested the news and tried to formulate a response. "That seems… good and bad," she commented, "I mean, this is beautiful and sort of like a fairytale, but if you ever wanted a birthday to yourself..."

Even in their rigid dance posture, Nolan could feel his shoulders and chest relax somewhat under her assessment. It was nice to not have to explain to someone his conflicted feelings towards his birthday. "That's exactly how I feel," he admitted, "every year."

Her face was sympathetic but not pitying. "Maybe one year you'll get the day off," she remarked, though she didn't sound exactly hopeful. Despite being one of the youngest of the group, she seemed to be well aware that a prince couldn't just take the day off.

They danced a little longer, and Nolan relaxed enough to ask her a few questions about her family and answer the ones that she proffered in return. Towards the end of the song, he noticed a new arrival at the other end of the ballroom that caught his attention. Kylee picked up on his distraction, but she didn't look bothered by it at all. "Someone you need to see?" she guessed.

"Sort of," Nolan admitted.

"That's all right," she assured him. She sounded just as cheerful as she had when he'd first approached her. "I'm just really glad that I got to talk to you tonight."

His distraction was forgotten for a second as her upbeat attitude recaptured his full attention. "Me too," he realized. "Thanks for making me… I don't know. Relax, I guess."

"I'm glad I could help," Kylee beamed. She gave a brief curtsey before they parted.

Nolan paused for the briefest moment to grab a snack to fortify himself before he searched the crowded ballroom for a different face. He located Raina easily and made his way to her before she could notice that her family had arrived. Because of the history between Alaric and Oliver, he'd wanted to be with Raina when she first greeted her father so that he could be introduced to the man by the most favorable party possible.

His planning would have been perfect if it weren't the addition of Finn Cojocaru. As Nolan had seen Raina that morning—she'd given him a birthday pancake and sang happy birthday to him before they had a dance party as part of her anxiety combat calendar—he hadn't been overly concerned with getting time in with her at the ball. But when he noticed the way that Finn looked at Raina, he felt much less comfortable about leaving her with him while he chatted up Alaric.

But he forced himself to stick to his plan, which he came to regret immensely when his surprise reunion inadvertently created an awkward situation between his parents, Alaric, Aunt Kaitlyn, Uncle Tristan, and Aunt Isolde. The six seemed to share far more history than Nolan had realized, so he had uncomfortably excused himself promptly.

Lea caught him by the arm before he could complete his escape. She'd been standing on the outskirts of the room with Margo and Alex and looked amused by the congregation near their parents' thrones. "What did you do?" she snickered.

"Nothing!" countered Nolan. "I wanted to meet Raina's dad officially, but I didn't know how, so I figured I'd bring Mom and Dad in as a buffer, and oh my god, Lea, it was so uncomfortable."

The other three giggled. Margo put a hand on his arm that made him jump. "Are you okay?" she asked, her dark brown eyes looking genuinely concerned.

"Yeah," he nodded. "I think I'm just gonna… get some air or something." She nodded and removed her hand to let him leave, which caused Nolan to pause. He sent a pointed look at his sister, who quickly caught on and pointedly asked Alex to come grab a cupcake with her, leaving Nolan alone with Margo. Once they were alone, he added, "Do you wanna come with me?"

Margo nodded eagerly, and Nolan led the way to one of the balconies that protruded from the ballroom. The beginning of September had brought a slight chill into the night air, and when Margo absentmindedly rubbed the arms that her strapless, midnight blue ballgown left exposed, Nolan slipped his jacket off for her.

"Thank you," she smiled shyly as she draped it over her shoulders. "That's really sweet of you."

He tried not to blush, although Margo took care of that for you. "Sorry," she giggled, "I'm not trying to flirt with you."

"Oh." Nolan wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Margo seemed to notice this as well and looked a little flustered as she hurriedly explained, "Not that I don't want to. I'm just a terrible flirter. I could watch a million 'how to' videos or take the best crash course, and I'd still be hopeless—"

Her ramble was cut off by a shrill ringtone. They both paused, and the flush in Margo's cheeks deepened. "Uh… can you hang on for just a second?" she asked.

Nolan was confused and entertained by the request, but he nodded. Margo fished a cell phone out of her silver clutch and held it to her ear. "Nat?" She paused before she tried again, this time more loudly, "Natasha?" She held her other hand to her ear, as though she was trying to drown out the sound of the ball. "I'm so sorry," she mouthed to Nolan before she began to wander around the balcony, as though she was trying to find the best service.

"No, I'm here, Nat!" she insisted loudly, "I think the issue is _perfect_. No, NO—listen to me, do not let Jean Claude pull the shoot, it was amazing!" She continued on in a similar vein for a few minutes, and although Nolan found it a little laughable that he had essentially been put on hold for what sounded like word, he also felt a mixture of admiration and interest as his gaze followed Margo.

"I'm so sorry," she huffed as she made her way back towards him, the phone tucked away. "There was a huge emergency with a really particular photographer, but it's all squared away."

"Work never stops, huh?" he commented.

"No," she agreed. "That's sort of one of the things I liked best about you—I feel like we have really similar work ethics."

Nolan froze. He hoped that some of the girls liked him, but this was the first time any of them had admitted to such a thing. Margo's eyes widened as she realized what she'd said as well. "Oh, my lord," she groaned and clamped a hand over her eyes, "I told you I'm terrible at this flirting thing!"

Nolan laughed as he reached out to gently pull her hand away. "Don't worry about it," he offered, "I'm pretty bad at all of this too, honestly."

She gave him a soft smile. "I think you've been doing okay," she countered warmly.

This time, it was Nolan's turn to blush. While he had never been fond of crowds, he felt more exposed alone on the balcony with Margo than he had in the ballroom, so he suggested, "Want to try those cupcakes that Lea was talking about?"

Margo gave an energetic nod, traded his jacket for his arm, and together, the pair returned to the ball.

* * *

There were few things that could fluster Finn Cojocaru. Between being a firefighter and Ryder's best friend for nearly two decades, people often joked that he had nerves of steel. It was nearly impossible to catch him off guard or rattle his unshakeable calm.

Except where Raina Illéa was concerned.

He'd known her since they were both children, and he'd never minded when she tagged along on his and Ryder's adventures. She was sweet and silly, the type of person that could brighten anyone's day if they gave her the chance. He couldn't determine exactly when it had happened, but one day he'd looked at her and realized that he didn't feel the same about her as he did Ryder or Alaric.

She was the center of his universe, though the pull was much more than gravitational. Everything that was good in his world was Raina.

Of course he thought she was beautiful, but that was the last thing that Finn considered when she came to mind—which was more often than she probably should have since she was his best friend's little sister. He loved her compassion, even in the face of all the cruelty she'd faced because of her last name. He loved her mind, the way that her poetry could paint the world in new lights even though she was constantly seeing it in shades of gray due to her colorblindness. He loved the way she could look into someone's soul, see exactly how they were hurting, and find a way to heal them.

He loved her.

It was hard being in the same city as her but never feeling more distant. He knew she was upset that he and Ryder had decided to join the army. They'd discussed it at length, and he was resigned to the fact that it might be the one thing she could never understand about him.

But the distance wasn't only because of his new occupation. As he stared into the mirror in the bathroom of the hotel room that Alaric had rented for the weekend, Finn realized he'd never dreaded seeing Raina so much.

It wasn't because of her, of course. It was _him—_ Prince Nolan.

"Are you _sure_ this is a good idea?" he sighed as he adjusted the black tie that he'd chosen to complete his all black ensemble.

"Really embracing your Draculean history, huh?" smirked Ryder as he buttoned the jacket of his own suit. Ryder insisted that it was a "rich charcoal", but it looked distinctly purple to Finn. "I thought you'd be jumping for joy about seeing Rainy. You haven't had anyone to be a goody two shoes with you recently."

Finn rolled his eyes. "Keeping tabs on you on my own is a little exhausting," he acknowledged.

Ryder clapped him on the shoulder. "Cheer up. I know you're really trying to hone this vampire thing, but smiling won't kill you." He looped an arm through Finn's and dragged him out of the bathroom to where Alaric was waiting for them.

The elder Illéa seemed to be leaning more towards Finn's attitude than Ryder's, and Finn could tell he was nervous by the way he twirled the gold ring that he'd inherited from his grandfather, August Illéa, as he stared out the window. The palace wasn't visible from the hotel, but Alaric looked intently to the east, as though he could still pinpoint its exact location.

"Ready, Padre?" Ryder asked cheerfully as he grabbed the cream and gold invitation that would grant them entry to the palace.

Alaric remained silent, not as though he was ignoring Ryder but like he hadn't heard him at all in the first place. Ryder's blonde eyebrows furrowed for a second.

"Popsicle?" Nothing. "Ancestor?" Silence. "ALARIC?"

The older man finally looked away from the window. "Sorry. Are you guys ready?"

"You and Fifi are starting to freak me out," Ryder declared. "What's wrong with the two of you? It's just a birthday party, and we get to see Raina. Get it together, team."

Alaric frowned. "Before we go… let's just all be on our best behavior tonight, okay?"

Although Ryder's puckered brow indicated he thought his father's suggestion was directed at him, Finn swallowed nervously as well. While Ryder determined to be oblivious to the feelings that his friend harbored for his sister, Alaric had always been far more perceptive. "Always are, Mr. I," Finn assured Alaric. The two of them exchanged a tense smile, far more united in their dread of the evening.

King Oliver had offered to send a car for them, and a sleek sedan idled in front of the hotel when they emerged. Ryder slid into the front seat and quickly struck up a conversation with the driver, while Alaric and Finn settled into the back. They let Ryder fill the silence in the car for most of the drive, before Finn furtively glanced at Alaric. "Are you okay?" he asked after a moment of internal debate.

The Illéas had always been like Finn's second family. Even far before his own parents had returned to Romania when Finn had turned eighteen, Alaric had always treated him like family and made sure that Finn was comfortable enough to come to him with any problem, even if it was about his own children. Finn appreciated it, but sometimes, he felt bad that Alaric had no one to confide his feelings in. He knew that Raina and Ryder's dad didn't want to burden his children with his own concerns, but since he only had a few acquaintances through work and Granny Thea had never been a fan of him, Finn had often thought that Alaric must be very lonely.

For a second, Alaric looked poised to admit that he was not okay. But the moment passed, and he forced a thin smile. "I was just thinking about the last Schreave party I attended," he admitted. "It was Oliver's birthday."

Finn paused, unsure of how to respond. It was rare that Alaric talked about his life in Angeles. "Is it weird seeing all of them again?" he asked.

After a moment of consideration, Alaric admitted, "It's… complicated. Sometimes it seems like we were children making adult decisions."

Finn nodded slowly. "Do you think Raina…" He bit his lip, unsure if he wanted to ask the question. "I mean, the Selection ends in a marriage."

"Yes, it does," agreed Alaric. "Something I discussed with her at length before she decided to enter."

"I just hope she's happy, whatever happens," Finn grimaced. Alaric gave him a sad look, one that Finn couldn't bear to meet for too long.

Ryder gave them no time to collect themselves when the car slowed in front of the palace. He was out before the driver had even come to a complete stop, buoyed by an excitement that Finn had a feeling was due more to a certain general's daughter than Raina. "This boy is going to be the death of me," muttered Alaric as he and Finn took the steps two at a time after Ryder.

Finn was grateful for the momentary distraction that Ryder's impatience had given him, though. The palace was a _mad house_. There were cameras everywhere, held back with velvet ropes and closely monitored by guards. Everyone wore sleek suits or glittering gowns, and they paused on their ascension of the steps into the palace so that their splendor could be captured by the media present. There were a few people that he recognized from television, names that he knew because they were either rich, powerful, or both.

This wasn't his world. But it might be Raina's someday, he reminded himself, and the realization of how little he would fit into it if so caused an ache to form under his ribs.

That, or his lungs were tired of chasing after Ryder. He hoped it was the latter.

The entrance hall was only slightly less crowded with fewer flashbulb explosions and yelling. People also didn't linger as much here, only pausing to remove jackets or hand invitations to the appropriate people. Security was heightened here though, and Finn felt a little uncomfortable as he was patted down by a burly guard, even though he knew he had nothing prohibited on his person.

Once they made it through security—which took longer than it should have after Ryder joked with the guard about how friendly the guard was getting and had to remove his shoes and jacket as well as penance for his nonchalance—a pair of butlers opened the enormous pair of cream colored doors that led to the ballroom. Finn tried to take it all in stride—the diamond chandeliers, the scores of people, the tables that lined the edges of the room with towers of food and pyramids of champagne, the elaborately carved thrones with their velvet cushions at the far end of the room, the windows that stretched from floor to vaulted ceiling—but he'd never seen anything like the ballroom.

But even in the sensory overload that he was suffering though, he found her instantly. She stood across the room in a pale blue gown with fluttery sleeves that draped off her delicate shoulders, and a smile lit up her face as she spoke with two other girls. She appeared to be in wonder too as she glanced around the ballroom, a sight that made Finn's nerves relax as it reminder him of the Raina that had left Likely only a few weeks ago.

But his relief was short-lived as he watched a figure approach the small group. Finn had seen Nolan on television before, of course, and he'd never thought much of the prince. He might've been handsome—he'd heard girls focus on his looks, particularly once the Selection was announced—but he'd always seemed a little uptight and boring to Finn. Not the type of person that deserved Raina's brilliant smiles and melodic laughs.

Yet he had them now. As Raina curtsied to Nolan and the prince reached out to kiss her hand, a hot and uncomfortable ball of jealousy formed in Finn's chest. It pulsed for a few minutes as he watched the scene before it slowly began to dissipate into every vein of his body so that it could fester and grow.

As if she could feel Finn's gaze on her, Raina turned in their direction a moment later. He wouldn't have thought that she could have looked any more cheerful, but the pure ecstasy that glowed from her face was undeniable. She briefly turned to Nolan and said something before the two of them excused themselves from the other girls, and—to Finn's disappointment—made their way towards the three of them together.

When they were a few feet away, Raina dropped Nolan's arm and any semblance of proper decorum to dash towards her family. She threw herself at Finn with an intensity that made him stumble back a few steps, but he caught her, as he always would. As he hugged her to his chest, it felt easier to breathe, to smile, to just _be_. Her presence cleansed any of the unsavory feelings he'd been struggling with only seconds ago.

In the event this was the last time he saw her as Raina Illéa instead of a princess, he tried to commit every minute detail of the moment to memory—the way her chin rested on his shoulder, the grip of her arms around his neck, the way her excitement left ribs heaving a little harder than usual, the way he could feel her happiness like it was a tangible thing.

"I've missed you so much!" she declared.

"I've missed you too," Finn promised her, his throat thick with emotion.

When she finally released him to transfer her affection to her father and brother, Finn took the moment to inspect Nolan. He was taller in person—of course, Finn thought bitterly—though still shorter than Finn was. His smile looked tentative, almost like he wished Raina had excluded him from the family reunion. A golden crown—ostentatious, Finn decided, though it wasn't nearly as glittering as the jewelry that nearly every woman in the room seemed to be wearing—sat atop his dark hair, but it was still mused a little in the back, like he had struggled to get it to lay flat.

Once Raina had said hello to her father and brother and stepped back to make the introductions to Nolan, Finn realized that the prince was evaluating him as well. "Another brother?" he suggested, sounding hopeful, "Or maybe a cousin?"

Finn smirked. "No," he countered. "Only an honorary Illéa. Finn Cojocaru." There was a weighty pause before Finn resentfully added, "Your Highness."

"Fifi is my best friend," Raina added, smiling up at Finn with an expression that made his entire stomach flutter, though he wished she wouldn't have referred to him as "Fifi" in front of Nolan.

The ridiculous nickname seemed to make the prince's smile come much more easily. "Fifi. Of course," he remarked, "Well, nice to meet you."

Finn's gaze narrowed, and he was about to bring up Ryder's nickname for the prince ("Nono") when Alaric seemed to notice the tension between the two men and quickly interjected, "Thank you for inviting us, Prince Nolan. It's wonderful to get to see Raina."

"Yeah, happy birthday, man," added Ryder, sounding perfectly cheerful. Finn resisted the urge to glare at his roommate. Ryder clearly needed to be informed that they weren't fans of this Nolan character.

"I'm glad you all could be here," Nolan added, "Raina has been telling me how excited she was to see you all morning."

Raina gave Nolan a smile that was a dagger to Finn's heart. "We had a dance party this morning," she explained to her family, though the elucidation still didn't make much sense to Finn. He didn't like that she and Nolan seemed to have a secret understanding about their morning adventure.

He was spared a moment later when Nolan asked if Alaric wanted to say hi to his parents. Since the older man was obligated to accept the invitation regardless of whether he truly wanted to or not, Alaric and Nolan excused themselves, leaving Finn and Ryder alone with Raina. "You look like a princess, Rainy," Ryder informed his sister.

She spun in a circle. "I feel like one!" she giggled. "Oh, guys, I'm so happy to see you both." She turned an accusatory gaze to Finn. "Daddy and Ryder have both been to visit me," she pointed out, "What's your excuse, Fifi?"

Finn laughed. "You realize I could probably get into a high security prison more easily than this place, right?" he pointed out. "Ryder almost got arrested for joking about setting the roof on fire."

"I did not," countered Ryder when Raina turned a wide eye gaze on him, "I was just 'strongly discouraged' from future remarks of such a nature—"

Raina laughed. "You're ridiculous," she declared, "but I still can't believe you guys are actually here." She beamed. "I missed you both so much."

"Have they been keeping you busy?" Finn asked.

"Very," Raina replied with a nod, "In fact, I have a whole new skillset of dance moves."

"Impressive for someone who was already immeasurably talented," quipped Finn.

"You have to let me show you," she requested, in the way that she always did when she had mastered something in her ballet classes back home. He and Ryder had often been charged with standing in as her partner in the makeshift dance studio that the Illéa basement served as.

"I'm nominating Fifi for this one," Ryder declared, his gaze focused on something across the room. "I'm going to go… try the food." Before either Finn or Raina could respond, he disappeared into the crowd of people.

Finn wasn't particularly confident in his dance skills, but there was no way he could deny Raina when she was staring up at him with her beautiful hazel eyes. "Alright, alright," he agreed, and she grabbed his hand, their fingers lacing together as she dragged him towards the dance floor.

He pushed away the adrenaline that started to race through his body when she stepped close to him to briefly lead him through the steps of the dance. When he took the lead, he stared into the green and gold irises, trying to find the unique calm in them that only Raina could ever provide him with.

Slowly, his heartbeat returned to normal, and he sank into the comfortable familiarity that being around Raina was. "Are you happy, Rainy?" he asked. Part of him wanted her to say yes. All he'd ever wanted was for her to be happy. But the selfish part of him wanted to hear that she didn't feel anything for Nolan and missed them.

After a slight pause, she gave an enthusiastic nod. "I've made friends," she explained before she proceeded to tell him about Cheryl and Haven, the girls that he'd seen her with earlier. He was glad that her friends versus Nolan were what she supported her happiness with.

"Of course you did," he smiled. "Haven't I always told you anyone would have to be nuts not to love you?"

She rolled her eyes. "You have to say that."

"I do not," he retorted, "I mean it. You're… you're one of my favorite people, dragă."

She rolled her eyes but pulled him a little closer. "You know you're one of mine too, Finn." She rested her cheek against his shoulder, and Finn took a deep breath. If nothing good ever happened to him for the rest of his life, this moment with Raina would be enough to get him through anything.

"Can I tell you a secret?" she asked. She sounded nervous, and Finn glanced down at her. She didn't meet his gaze though, keeping her face pressed against his shoulder.

"Anything," he promised her. He tried not to let his imagination run away in the few seconds that passed before she spoke, but it was hard. He went through a million scenarios: she didn't like Nolan, she was going to come home, she'd realized how she'd felt about Finn. A million different hopes gathered in the forefront of his mind.

But then, she broke his heart: "I think I like him."

He was silent as he tried to process through the disappointment that clouded his head. "The prince?" He couldn't use his name. It had taken enough effort to keep his voice and face neutral.

Raina nodded and looked up at him. "He's different than I thought he'd be," she admitted. "We… we've been spending most mornings together because of… something, and he's just…" She shrugged. "I'm happy when I'm around him."

It was worse than he thought it would be. To hear that she liked him for something deeper than his crown or his pretty face—not that he'd ever suspected Raina could be so superficial—was the worst part. He'd always meant that someone would have to be crazy or stupid not to love Raina. From what he'd heard about the prince, Nolan certainly wasn't unintelligent, and there'd never been any indication that he was unstable.

Which meant that he had to like Raina too.

Finn bit the inside of his cheek so hard that he could taste the metallic flavor of blood. He was losing her, and there was nothing he could do about it.

"I'm happy for you," he finally managed. "That was the goal, wasn't it?"

Raina looked reassured by his response. "It's a little scary," she admitted.

He reflected on the only moment that had ever given him any indication that Raina might like him too: a single kiss in the dead of night in the kitchen of the flat that he and Ryder shared. It had been impulsive, the culmination of a sleepless night passed in conversation with each other, but it had been the best moment of Finn's life.

And now he realized how out of reach that was and what an idiot he must have been for hoping that it could ever be his future.

"Love can be scary," he acknowledged, "but it'll always be worth it, dragă floricică." _Even when it meant swallowing your own pain for the person you loved._

She abandoned the dance to pull him into a hug. "Thanks, Finn."

"Anything for you, Raina." She smiled at his reply, unaware of the way that he meant it with every ounce of his soul.


	13. 100 Days Before, Pt II

**Author's Note:** This chapter was motivated by my dear friend wolfofstark, who is now old like me. Happy belated birthday, pal. Thanks to everyone for the reviews last chapter, they really keep me goin :)

* * *

Chapter Twelve: 100 Days Before, Pt. II

Calli crossed her arms as she looked up at her father. "You know, you haven't had to babysit me at a ball in… oh, like the last twelve years, at least."

Cooper snorted. "Inaccurate. I believe you and Kingsley were thirteen when you convinced the chef that Mae had sent you to taste test all the desserts before they were served."

A smirk formed on Calli's face as she considered the memory. "Fair," she acknowledged, "although that was the best ball ever, and I regret nothing."

The expression was mirrored on the general's face, highlighting just how similar father and daughter were. While Calli physically favored her mother, her mannerisms and personality—including her stubbornness—were all her father. "I see the Illéas are here," Cooper noted. He tried to look casual as he sipped his scotch, but Calli could see his eyes following Alaric and Ryder across the room.

"Yes," confirmed Calli, "along with three hundred of Mae and Oliver's other closest friends."

He frowned down at her. "Don't be a smartass."

"Don't be a hardass," she countered.

The frown turned to a glare. "I should've grounded you more as a teenager," Cooper declared.

"But you didn't, because you trusted me," Calli reminded him. "So, trust me now. I can handle myself."

"It's not you I don't trust," Cooper retorted, his gaze still locked on Ryder.

Calli rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Alright, we're not doing this _again_. At least not before I've had a drink."

"Want me to come with you?" Cooper offered. When she raised her eyebrows in an 'are you serious' expression, he held up a hand. "Just kidding." She shook her head at him before she started for the bar.

"Cal."

She paused to glance over her shoulder at her dad. He didn't look mad, but there was a definite solemnity in his eyes. "Don't make me watch my only daughter be charged with treason."

Despite her confident insistence to her father that she could handle her friendship with Ryder, a slight shiver slid down her spine. She forced a smile, though they both knew it was far less self-assured and at ease than the previous ones that she'd thrown around. As she crossed the ballroom, a slight frown creased her forehead.

As she waited for the bartender, she considered her options. She'd never dated anyone before. Aside from a single kiss that she'd shared with Kingsley when they were younger—after which they both promptly agreed never again—she had very limited experience with boys. The ones at school had always been cocky or rude or just not interested in someone who was just as smart and even more driven than themselves.

No one had ever been Ryder.

But Nolan was one of her closest friends. She'd entered the Selection to watch out for him, and admittedly, she'd been a little spread thin recently between her new job and… well, Ryder. She knew that Nolan didn't mind, but she felt like she'd let him down a little in the last couple of weeks. Asking to leave the Selection because she thought she _might_ have a crush on Ryder Illéa just wasn't something she could do.

"You look like you could use a drink."

She looked to her left to see Finn had joined her. He was dressed in a sharp dark suit and looked exhausted even though he'd been at the ball for less than an hour. "So do you," she replied before she ordered two shots of tequila, remembering that Ryder had once mentioned it was Finn's preferred drink.

"This Selection…" Finn mused as he reached for his shot. He gave a dry, unamused little laugh before he decided, "It sucks."

Calli's gaze fell on Ryder across the room. "Yeah," she agreed. She and Finn clinked their glasses together before they swallowed the alcohol.

Along with Ryder and Mack, Finn had quickly become one of Calli's favorite people to hang around at Pacifica. He was easy to talk to and get along with, which is maybe why she felt comfortable enough to comment, "So, Raina?"

But the man beside her froze. "I don't know what you mean," he replied before ordering another pair of shots. It was a good attempt, like he'd repeated the lie so often that he almost bought it himself.

"Please," Calli countered with an unconvinced scoff. The hard set of Finn's mouth tensed. Calli's face softened before she added, "I saw the way you looked at her when you guys came in."

Finn sipped his next shot slowly, as though the sting of the alcohol was nothing compared to the pain that Raina's name brought to the surface. "I always thought I'd tell her someday," he sighed. "How I really felt. I tried once, but… I don't know. She's Ryder's younger sister, and he's my best friend, and it was just complicated.'

Calli glanced up, her eyes finding Ryder again easily. This time, he turned to see her looking, and he smiled before he set his trajectory for them. "Believe me," she sighed as the unadulterated happiness that seeing him had recently caused her to feel wrestled with the foreboding unease that her father had inspired, "I know complicated."

"Why do you two look like you're at a wake instead of a party?" Ryder demanded. He wrinkled his nose at the undrunk tequila shot that loitered in front of Calli. "Oh, god, probably because you're drinking this garbage."

Finn waved down the bartender. "Princess here will have a strawberry daiquiri," he declared with a thumb in Ryder's direction.

Ryder rolled his eyes. "Hilarious," he commented. He paused and glanced at the bartender. "Wait, can you do that?" Finn and Calli both laughed before Finn grabbed his drink and made an excuse about snagging some hors d'oeuvres.

Ryder slid onto Finn's vacated seat, and the two were silent for a moment as they watched the bartender blend Ryder's fruity drink. Calli's stomach was a flurry of nervousness, but she tried to ignore it. "You look pretty okay out of uniform," she remarked.

Ryder laughed. "Pretty okay?"

She shrugged. "Give me a break. I'm new to the compliment game."

The bartender deposited the pink drink. "Let me give you a two-second lesson," Ryder offered. "You're beautiful."

Calli rolled her eyes. "If you didn't have the girliest drink in existence, that might've worked better," she commented. "Although you could probably do with a lesson in smoothness. Maybe Bayer can show us how it's done—"

"I wasn't trying to be smooth," countered Ryder. "You are. Sure, the palace looks great, and everyone's probably wearing stuff that came right off a runway, but I don't get how they're not all staring at you."

Her cheeks burned in response. "Okay, _that_ was smooth," she acknowledged.

"Still wasn't trying to be," he chuckled. "Just being honest."

She inched a little closer to him. Ryder paused but didn't otherwise acknowledge that he'd noticed. "I'm glad you came," she admitted.

"Me too." He scooted closer too, which Calli definitely noticed.

Their arms were touching, and his hand rested on the bar top next to his drink. If she just reached out…

"Calli!"

They jumped apart as Orlando's parents, Presley and Henry Phineas, approached the pair. It had been a while since Calli had seen them, since she'd spent the summer at Lockewood, and she hugged them both in greeting. Calli introduced Ryder, but when she noticed Presley's eyebrows arch in what was either concern or interest, she added, "Uh, we were actually just about to dance, but we'll have to catch up later, Mrs. P."

"Of course," Presley offered with a kind smile. "Nice to meet you, Ryder."

Abandoning their drinks, Calli took Ryder's arm and steered him towards the dance floor. "Nice that your dad has so many friends to keep an eye on you," Ryder quipped good-naturedly.

"It's exhausting," sighed Calli. "Sorry."

"It's okay," shrugged Ryder, "So, do you want to grab some cake, or—"

"What do you mean?" Calli interjected, her hand sweeping down Ryder's arm to lace their fingers together. "We're dancing."

His blonde eyebrows knit together in confusion. "I thought that was just an excuse."

"Who can resist a good waltz though?" countered Calli with a grin.

Ryder hesitated. "Uh…"

She paused before a knowing smile formed on her lips. "Do you… not know how to dance?"

He scoffed before he spun her into his chest. It caught her off guard, and she giggled as she looked up into his sapphire gaze. "So, you do dance."

"Fairly well too, so watch out, Gauge," he instructed. "Just with your dad around and everyone looking…"

Calli let her arms wrest on his shoulders. "I'm not really thinking about anyone else right now," she admitted.

Ryder pulled her a little closer. "Me neither."

They talked while they danced, but Calli was far less focused on what she said than what she felt. Ryder could've been talking about Shrek memes again, and she still would've been content to spend the whole night dancing with him. She felt comfortable around him, relaxed, happy. A part of her had always wondered if love was worth it after the mess that her parents' marriage had been, but Ryder made her feel hopeful about it without saying or doing anything. He was enough, and he made her feel like she was enough too.

But the world around them didn't seem ready to get on board. A hand tapped Ryder's shoulder, interrupting their dance. "Can I cut in?" Kingsley asked. His face held a smile, but Calli had been friends with him long enough to see how forced it was.

Ryder was clearly disappointed. "Oh, uh—"

"It's been three songs," Kingsley added before Ryder could protest. This was something neither Calli nor Ryder could argue with, and they exchanged an awkward goodbye before Kingsley assumed Ryder's spot.

As soon as Ryder had dejectedly slunk away, Calli turned a fierce gaze on Kingsley. Used to her fiery temper, the soldier didn't back down. "I'm looking out for you."

"I don't need you to!" Calli countered. "God, between you and my dad—"

"Calli," Kingsley commented, his voice low but forceful. "People _noticed_."

Her anger momentarily abated as she glanced around. There were more than a few heads still turned in her direction. She searched for Ryder and found him talking with Gwen and Cheryl, two of the friendlier girls in the Selection. People seemed to be looking at Ryder a lot too. "You can't look out for Nolan in the Selection and do… whatever this is with Ryder Illéa," Kingsley declared. "You're going to get hurt, Calli. It's _treason_."

"I know that," she snapped. "But Oliver—"

"Maybe Uncle Oliver won't throw you in jail," Kingsley acknowledged, "but that doesn't mean people won't punish you. It's already been hard enough for you to build a reputation in your field because of your last name and your sex. The stigma of Ryder Illéa—"

Calli glared at him, although he knew there was some degree of truth to his words. "Do you disapprove because I'm in the Selection or because of who he is?" she demanded. Her eyes narrowed. "Or is it because you're miserable because you messed things up with Imani?"

She seemed to have hit a nerve, because Kingsley's grip on her hand tightened uncomfortably. "This has nothing to do with Imani," he countered. "I'm worried about _you_ , Calli."

"I'm not the one you should be worried about, Kings," she retorted.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, his expression grim.

"Imani isn't just going to wait around for you forever," Calli pointed out. "So, yeah, maybe her becoming queen isn't something that the two of you expected to happen. I know her brother abdicating was a huge shock. But it happened, and that doesn't mean that it's the end of the line for you two." She chewed her lip. "I don't know a lot about love, but I think that if you love someone enough… maybe everything else you can just figure out. You're not just going to find what you had with her somewhere less complicated."

"Imani and I know we're not the only people that would be affected by our being together," Kingsley frowned. "Maybe that's something you and Ryder should think about." The song ended, and with the tension still palpable between the friends, Kingsley stalked away, leaving Calli alone with her unease.

* * *

Nolan had always been the type to count his blessings. One of them was undoubtedly the small atrium that was tucked away behind his parents' thrones. It was for the exclusive use of the royals during the ball, packed with the necessary items to freshen ones' appearance, the royal family's favorite snacks, a small couch if one ever needed a break, and a private restroom. It was the perfect place to recharge.

He exhaled deeply as he splashed some water on his face, disappointed as he always was when he failed to meet his own high expectations.

One of his goals for the evening had been to make any kind of headway with a girl that intimidated but intrigued him. He wanted to get to know Lady Safiya better, but it was hard when he felt like he got tongue tied every time he was around her. It wasn't because she was beautiful (even though she was) or even that she had her own fame that was fairly similar to his. It was something _else_ , something that he couldn't put his finger on and couldn't figure out.

He'd seen her when he first arrived at the ball. She was dressed in a simple yet elegant glittering silver gown that offset her tanned complexion and inky hair perfectly. She wore a vibrant red lipstick, and her hair had been styled in old Hollywood waves. She looked phenomenal, as always, and he'd been determined to have a meaningful conversation with her, maybe take her on a walk through the gardens so they could escape the noise of the ballroom.

But he'd failed—again. When he tried speaking to her, the _something_ had intimidated him as always, and when he didn't see any of the warm excitement that he'd seen in the eyes of Kylee or Margo or even Muprhy, he'd squeaked out a quick excuse and escaped to the room behind the thrones.

But he knew that he couldn't hide in there all night, so after he dried his face and ordered his reflection to get it together in the mirror, he was determined to return to the ballroom. But he paused when he heard a slight commotion outside the bathroom. "Hello?" he called.

No one answered, because it seemed that someone was in the midst of a panic. "I never should've come back to Illéa." His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to place the voice. Aunt Kaitlyn?

"Kaitlyn, calm down." That sounded like his mother. "It's fine."

Nolan's hands began to sweat at the prospect of eavesdropping _again_. It hadn't worked out so well with Kingsley and Imani. But he was more nervous to reveal that he had been hiding in the bathroom because one of his Selected scared the pants off of him, so he kept quiet.

Aunt Kaitlyn, usually so upbeat, sounded much sadder than Nolan had ever heard her. "How, Mae?" she asked, her voice weak and hollow. "After twenty-three years…"

"Why don't you talk to him?" Mae suggested.

Nolan couldn't see, but from the silence, he guessed that his aunt was either nodding or shaking her head. "I can't," she finally sighed, and Nolan concluded that she had been shaking her head.

"Why not?" Mae sounded sad rather than frustrated.

"Because he deserved someone who would've ran after him all those years ago," Kaitlyn responded. "I… I should've told Alaric I loved him the minute I realized it."

Nolan's eyes bulged at this piece of news. His Aunt Kaitlyn was in love with Raina's dad. "Kaitlyn, we were teenagers," Mae pointed out. "I'm sure he doesn't blame you."

But Kaitlyn still didn't sound comforted. "It's different now," she pointed out, "He has Ryder and Raina, and I…" There was a sniffle. "I'm not a part of his life."

There was the sound of heels on the hard wood floor, and Nolan guessed that his mom was pulling Kaitlyn into some kind of embrace. Comforting hugs were one of Mae's specialties. "Just because the situation is different doesn't mean that the feelings are," Mae countered. "Talk to him."

There was a long pause in which Nolan almost emerged from the bathroom, thinking they'd left. But then Kaitlyn asked in a small voice, "What if he hates me because of… everything?"

Nolan focused a little more intently. He supposed, if he really thought about it, that was one of his big fears with the Selected too—that they would just inherently dislike him. "You shouldn't have had to live a life without him," Mae told her longtime friend, "but you did. You survived, and you've done it amazingly. You've saved lives and brought so much love and happiness to the people around you no matter how much you were hurting. So, if Alaric doesn't realize that you are the most incredible thing he ever let get away, you'll be able to survive that too."

There were a few more minutes of reassurance before the two women disappeared, and Nolan slowly emerged from the bathroom. Sometimes, he wished his mom wasn't so good at advice. She had a point though. He'd survived every anxiety producing, terrifying moment that he had been convinced was going to kill him. So, if he made a fool of himself tonight trying to connect with any of the Selected that he was unsure of, he would survive that too. After one more deep breath, he returned to the ballroom.

His eyes did a quick scan of the ballroom during which he realized the girl he'd had in mind was talking to others. Before he could talk himself out of it though, he noticed that Aunt Kaitlyn was dancing with Alaric Illéa, and they were both smiling more enormously than Nolan would have thought possible. So he steeled himself and marched right across the room.

"Lady Persephone," he greeted her firmly. He paused and glanced at the other girls. "Lady Isadora, Lady Rhiannon."

Isadora smiled brightly at him and curtsied, along with Persephone, but Rhiannon didn't seem like she was paying attention. Nolan thought that she was staring in Bayer and Lavinia's direction across the room as a frown turned down her mouth, but when Isadora elbowed her in the side to get her attention, Rhiannon quickly apologized and claimed she'd been examining the twins' enormous birthday cake.

"Lady Persephone, would I be able to borrow you for a moment?" he asked. Rhiannon didn't seem to mind—nor did she still seem to be paying much attention to Nolan—but Isadora's usually chipper expression fell.

Persephone, on the other hand, looked surprised but excited. "Of course," she smiled. Nolan held a hand out for her, which she politely accepted before he led her away from the group. "Where are we going?" Persephone asked after they made their way to the perimeter of the room.

"Um…" Nolan paused. "Honestly, I didn't have much of a plan," he admitted, "I sort of just wanted to talk to you."

Although he expected her to be disappointed or annoyed—after all, what kind of doofus interrupted someone without any sort of plan?—Persephone gave a tentative smile. "Really?" she asked.

"Really," Nolan confessed with a self-deprecating chuckle. "That probably sounds dumb, but—"

"No," she countered, "Not at all. I'm actually… kind of relieved, I guess."

"Really?" echoed Nolan.

"Yeah," nodded Persephone, "I was sort of wondering if you even noticed me."

"I did," Nolan assured her, "I mean, I do." He gave what he was about to say a moment of thought before he pushed himself forward. "I like your name," he added, "Lea says this never surprises anyone, but I really like mythology and classical literature."

Persephone smiled. "I like to read a lot too."

"Oh yeah?" Nolan asked, comforted by the shared interest. They were still aimlessly walking around the room, but neither seemed to mind. "What else do you do for fun back in Denbeigh?"

"For fun," mused Persephone. "Well, I model."

"Is that a job or fun?" Nolan asked.

"I think it can be both," she remarked.

Any tenseness that Nolan had been harboring disappeared. "I feel that way about being prince. People are always telling me to 'lighten up' or 'have some fun', but I _like_ doing prince stuff."

Persephone smiled. "That's nice. I imagine it would be a lot harder if it weren't something you were excited about."

Nolan nodded his agreement. "So, do you live with your family back in Denbeigh?" he continued.

"Uh, no," answered Persephone, "I have a little townhouse with my dog, Balto." Although he was curious as to why she didn't live with her family, considering she was only eighteen, Nolan decided to focus on the less heavy part of her statement and asked about her dog. It turned out that he was a husky, and when Persephone explained that he was staying at a shelter while she was in Angeles since she'd had no one to leave him with, Nolan promptly decided that they'd send for him tomorrow, which definitely earned him so brownie points.

When Persephone mentioned that she loved sweets, the pair headed for the dessert table where they ran into Eira and Simone as well. The four grabbed some cake and made their way to a little table where the girls talked about what their birthdays were like back home—spoiler alert: there were no balls. It was nice to hear what major events in normal people's lives were like, and Nolan found he was a bit envious of them. Simone, for example, always got a piñata at her parties and got to break it open. It sounded a little violent but also very fun to Nolan.

After their cake, he decided to dance with Izzy to make up for the sad look on her face earlier when he'd whisked Persephone away. He realized it wasn't the best decision on his part, as it was a little hard to communicate when their hands and feet were focused on a choreographed movement, but she was a lovely dancer nonetheless. Afterwards, he chatted with Freida, Ernesta, and Jay, until Imani joined them. They were all a little enthralled with the Saharan princess still, so Nolan had slipped off to dance with Gwen. Gwen lacked Izzy's skill and improvised a little in ways that made Nolan a little anxious since he appreciated structure so much, but she made him laugh with cracks about her terrible dancing.

When they were finished, he sampled some of the sugar-free desserts with Cheryl, who couldn't have the heavily sugared cake that everyone else was enjoying. He promised to have better options for her next time, since most of them were terrible, but Cheryl was a good sport about it. She also seemed to have developed a friendship with Orlando and was overjoyed when Orlando and Charlie forced her and Nolan to join them in the photo booth. The pictures were terribly ridiculous, but it didn't stop Nolan from tucking a copy into the pocket of his suit jacket.

He was proud of himself when he realized he'd gotten time in with most of the girls in a little over two hours, but when he was finally on his own, he realized he was a little tired. He figured he'd put in enough face time to warrant a break, so he headed towards a little alcove with a couple of more secluded seats.

Instead of being met with the possibility of a break, he froze when he was met with a familiar face. "Lady Haven."

"Prince Nolan." Haven sat in her wheelchair, as always, and was dressed in a sparkling gown. On her lap sat a sketchbook filled with odd geometrical drawings and equations. She tapped her pen against the edge of her chair. "Guess I'm caught, huh?"

It did strike Nolan as a little odd that she was working at a ball, but who was he to judge? "Uh, no," he countered, "You're fine." He pulled a chair out.

"Oh, you're sitting," Haven remarked. She sighed and closed her notebook, momentarily resigned to the company.

"What were you working on?" Nolan asked, genuinely curious.

"Uh… well, okay, this sounds cryptic," she confessed, "but I had this really interesting conversation with Xander Seymour about weapons and geographical positioning hacking and how it could…" She trailed off. "Your eyes glazed over, so I take it this isn't your speed?"

"My dad is the military man," Nolan confessed.

Haven laughed. "It's basically just GPS for the other side's weapons based on their radiation emissions," she summarized. "Just a thought."

"Are you interested in weapons development?" Nolan asked.

"I'm interested in inventing," Haven amended. "I like making or doing things people haven't thought of."

Nolan knew that Haven's father had a very impressive tech company that she worked for and was in line to inherit, but he realized this was the most he'd spoken to her in one sitting so far, and he was intrigued by her demeanor. "I take it balls fall on the list of things that you're less interested in?" he assumed.

She snorted. "Full disclosure?"

"I would hope for nothing less," replied Nolan.

"So boring," she scoffed. "Some of these people… Do they even have half a brain cell?"

Nolan snorted. "Valid inquiry," he admitted, "and this is even after my dad cleared out a lot of the riffraff. You should see some of the people that my grandmother had to put up with."

"Didn't make him very popular among big business though," Haven pointed out.

A frown pulled at Nolan's mouth. Oliver was notoriously difficult to gain access to among families that had financial interests in Illéan foreign and domestic policies. Aside from the Seymours, no businesspeople had managed to work their way into Oliver's social circle since he'd taken the crown. His style of ruling was quite different from his predecessor, who had at least invited powerful company CEOs and owners to things like the annual Christmas Ball or Harvest Festival. Oliver, in contrast, invited the requisite politicians but then chose to fill these events with charities, foreign guests, scientists, and artists.

"Well… ruling isn't always a popularity contest," Nolan replied.

Haven shrugged. "I like that he doesn't put up with people he doesn't like," she admitted.

Nolan's forehead puckered, a little confused by the contrasting views. "Well… thanks then?"

Haven continued to tap her pen against the arm of her chair. Impulsively—or impulsive for Nolan—he suggested, "Do you want to take a breather? Maybe grab some air, take a walk, or something?"

Haven cocked an eyebrow, looking amused as she glanced at her legs. "A walk?"

The color drained from Nolan's face. "Oh, my god, I'm so sorry."

She shook her head. "Don't worry about it. Literally happens all the time." She began to wheel herself away from the little alcove while Nolan awkwardly lingered in his seat, mentally berating himself for his stupidity. She paused. "You coming?"

He jumped to his feet and joined her as they navigated their way out of the ballroom. It was quieter in the hall, but there was still a fair amount of people around, so Nolan suggested they step outside for a minute and directed her towards a door that opened into a well-manicured expanse of bushes, fountains, and trees.

"How does the whole palace look like something out of a magazine?" she chuckled. "Even the gardens."

"I had shallow ancestors," shrugged Nolan.

Haven laughed again, surprising Nolan. "People don't give you enough credit for how funny you can be," she noted. "Although I don't think you know you're doing it most of the time."

"I don't," he confessed.

"So, what made you hold a Selection?" Haven asked as they made their way down a path lined by lavender and peony bushes. "You seemed pretty sane, so I was a little surprised."

"Uh, it just seemed like a good time," shrugged Nolan.

Haven didn't look fooled. "And all the people protesting the war in Europe or demanding we get involved didn't have an impact?"

Nolan's jaw tensed. "No."

Haven held her hands up. "Of course not," she agreed, "I'm just a genius, what do I know?"

"Well, what made you enter?" Nolan rejoined. "That seems a little crazier than holding this thing in the first place."

She shrugged. "Just to get away, do something on my own," she replied vaguely. "And if Illéa gets a queen with an IQ of 153 out of it, works out for all of us."

Nolan paused. "153? Really?"

Haven grinned, straightening in her chair a little. "And don't you forget it."

They walked together a little longer, and Nolan tried to keep Haven talking about herself, which she complied with easily. She told him about her father, her best friend Sunny, and the work that she did for Arita's Technology, which Nolan found himself really impressed by. When they finally made their way back into the ballroom, the crowds had begun to thin, and Nolan realized he'd spent close to an hour with Haven. He wasn't sure if he felt an emotional connection to her like he did some of the other girls yet, but he liked her sarcasm and confidence and at least felt like they'd developed the basis of a good friendship.

Once the party ended, Lea and Nolan said goodnight to their family, friends, and the Selected before they changed out of their formal clothes—Nolan panicked a little when he realized it meant his sister was about to be proposed to in a koala t-shirt and pajama bottoms that were probably Alex's— and snuck down to the kitchens for their late-night birthday snack, an odd little tradition they'd shared for years. It was always something random, but no matter what, they always stuck two candles into the dish and made their wishes together. This year, they decided on cheesy zucchini enchiladas.

"What are you wishing for this year?" Lea asked as she stared into the flame of her candle.

Nola considered the question. "I'm not sure," he admitted. There was a lot he wanted: for the war in Europe to die down, to just _know_ out which of the Selected was his perfect match, to get his anxiety under control. But none of those problems could be solved with a rapidly melting stick of wax stabbed into the center of an enchilada. "You?" he asked, glancing at his sister.

She gave a half smile. "Probably a new pair of shoes." The way she said it easily and readily made Nolan laugh, but he had a feeling that Lea's real wish was nowhere near as shallow as her joke. She reached for her brother's hand and squeezed it. "Happy birthday to us."

Nolan smiled as well. "No one I'd rather share it with, Lee-Lee," he informed her, utilizing the nickname that he had used for her exclusively until they were about nine.

On the count of three, they made their real wishes—only one of which would eventually come true, but more on that later—and blew the candles out together. "This was a great pick," Lea declared as she cut into her enchilada with her fork.

"Do you remember the year we decided on clam chowder, and the candle kept falling over?" chortled Nolan.

"Was that twelve?" Lea asked with a laugh as she thought back on the memory. Her brother nodded his confirmation. "Seems like a million years ago," she remarked affectionately. "Guess we're officially all grown up now."

"Something like that," Nolan chuckled. His eyes jumped to the clock behind Lea's shoulder, and although neither had finished their late-night snacks yet, he suggested, "Do you want to go for a garden walk, like we used to when I couldn't sleep? These are still kind of hot anyway."

"Sure," Lea agreed, "I already burned my tongue." They slid off their stools, and Lea threw an arm around Nolan's shoulders as the two made their way into the gardens instead. "It's such a perfect night," she sighed as they breathed in the pleasant September air. There was a nice breeze, but it wasn't so substantial that either Nolan or Lea were uncomfortable at all in their nightclothes.

Nolan was about to agree but got distracted as he squinted through the plants and flowers. "Is that Mom and Dad?"

Lea laughed as she gazed in the direction as well and nodded. Mae and Oliver waved, and the twins joined them. "Hey, guys," Lea smiled. "What are you doing out here? Isn't it a little past your bedtime?"

Oliver rolled his eyes. "Very funny," he noted.

Mae smiled in amusement. "We couldn't sleep," she admitted, "You know, too excited after the ball, so we just thought we'd go for a quick walk. What are _you_ guys doing here?"

Nolan inspected his mother's face. His parents were certainly excited, but he seriously doubted it had anything to do with the ball. Alex must have told them that he planned to propose that night. If Lea noticed Mae's white lie, she didn't let on. Instead, she took Oliver's free arm, linking the four of them into a little chain. She rested her head against Oliver's shoulder as the four started through the garden again. "Nollie and I always sneak out after our birthday," she declared, "He's trying to kick the habit, but I won't let him."

"Is it sneaking out if we're twenty years old?" Nolan wondered.

"I always knew Lea was the corrupter," Oliver noted.

Nolan rolled his eyes. "Well, no one ever thought it was me," he countered.

Oliver put an arm around his daughter's shoulders, his eyes looking wistful. "I remember when you two weren't any taller than Pip," he sighed.

Mae joined him in his nostalgia. "The cutest, sweetest little pair ever," she agreed as a smile tugged at her face. "Everyone who met you loved you."

Nolan almost rolled his eyes again. If his parents kept this up, Lea was definitely going to realize that something was going on. But for some reason, Lea didn't look equally exasperated by their sappy parents. Instead, she elbowed her brother in the ribs. "Do you remember how Mom made us match until we were like nine?" she giggled.

"It was adorable," Mae countered.

Nolan didn't want to give into the reminiscing, but a small smile tugged at his mouth. "Do you remember how we always wanted to play Airplane?" he added. "And Mom was convinced Dad was going to drop us every time?"

"She of little faith," Oliver commented, kissing his wife's cheek.

"Or the first time we went skiing, and Nolan almost ran into a tree?" Lea rejoined.

"He screamed the whole way down," snickered Oliver.

Nolan rolled his eyes. "Hey, that's how JFK Jr. died," he pointed out, "It's very dangerous."

But Lea only groaned. "Oh, _Lord_ , do you guys remember how obsessed Nolan used to be with the Kennedys?" she continued.

"I'm feeling a little attacked right now," Nolan muttered.

Oliver reached a hand across Lea's shoulders to give Nolan a pat across the back. "To be fair, you were obsessed with most American presidents," Oliver reminded him, "It's fine, though. A leader should study other leaders." Nolan stood a little taller.

Lea frowned. "What's that?" she asked. She pointed to a glowing jar that hung from the branch of a nearby tree, a small tea light providing illumination.

"No clue," Mae quickly replied.

Lea pulled away from the other three towards the light. The confused expression deepened when she noticed another jar sat on the ground near the tree. A few feet away, there was another jar, like a trail of breadcrumbs to be followed. She glanced back at her family, who shrugged and gestured down the path.

The jars grew in number until there were floating lights everywhere, and the path was solidly outlined. Lea's face grew more excited the more numerous they became. Nolan's sister had always loved surprises.

But suddenly, the trail that the lights created ended. Alex stood near the pool, surrounded by even more candles and lights, and he looked much calmer than Nolan would have if their positions were reversed. Lea, for her part, looked amused. "Is it time for the birthday present you've been putting off all day?" she teased as she approached him, "I almost thought that you forgot."

"Never," Alex promised.

Nolan glanced at his parents, who both looked like they were barely keeping their tears at bay. "Why the pool?" he asked his mom in a low voice.

"It's where they first met," Mae answered.

Oliver squeezed his wife's shoulders a little tighter. "Where I proposed to your mom, too."

Near the pool, Alex took a deep breath and took Lea's hands. "This is where I first met you," he reminded her. "I was fourteen years old, visiting the palace because me and my nerdy friends had won a science contest. I got lost looking for the bathroom, and I found you."

Lea laughed. "You never told me you needed the restroom."

"I've never had to pee so badly in my life," Alex declared, causing Lea to laugh even more. "But once I found you, there was no way I was ever leaving you."

"You're not 'something special' or the best part of my life. You're everything, Leanna. You are my life." The candles that surrounded the pair betrayed the tears that had begun to shine in Lea's eyes. ""You are the finest, loveliest, tenderest, and most beautiful person I have ever known—and even that is an understatement,"" he declared, reciting what Nolan knew was one of Lea's favorite Fitzgerald quotes.

"Do you think she's going to be mad if she gets proposed to in pajamas?" Nolan whispered to his dad.

But he immediately felt dumb for thinking Lea would be anything but ecstatic, because when Alex slowly bent to one knee, the tears that Lea had been struggling to keep at bay escaped, and Alex gave up with bending down, instead pulling her close to dust the tears off her cheeks with his thumbs as he cupped her face.

"You have given me the strength to pursue all of my dreams, including us. I am the luckiest man in the world every day that I wake up and have the fortune of being loved by you. And if I get to spend the rest of my life making sure that you feel that way too, that sounds like a pretty good life to me." He paused, and even through her tears, his enormous smile was reflected on Lea's face. Now, he bent again, the box that he had shown Nolan earlier open in his hands. "So, Leanna Kile Woodwork-Schreave, will you marry me?"

Lea didn't need a second of thought. "Yes!"

Even with all the preparation, Alex's expression was a mixture of surprise and relief. "Yes?"

"Yes!" Lea repeated, bobbing on her feet in excitement. "Yes, yes, yes times a million!"

Alex became an overexcited, fumbling mess, and Nolan was honestly amazed that he and Lea managed to get the ring onto her finger through their excitement. As soon as he stood, Lea threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck as he stumbled dangerously close to the pool. He recovered well though, spinning her in a circle as they both clung to each other and Lea sobbed into his shoulder in happiness.

When she landed on her feet again, she turned to her family and raised her hand to show them the brilliant rose gold engagement ring with a sparkling center stone, a glittering halo, and an eternity band. "Did you all know?" she giggle-demanded.

They all nodded as they approached the two. Mae pulled Alex into a hug as Oliver congratulated Lea. "Welcome to the family!" Mae cheered as she hugged her future son-in-law.

"Calm down," Oliver instructed, "There's still time for him to escape." Despite his teasing, Oliver moved to hug Alex next.

"Not a chance, sir," Alex declared.

Nolan embraced Lea and Alex at the same time before they all decided to return to the palace to round up the rest of the family for a proper celebration. They would make official announcements the following day before word leaked from the palace somehow, but for now, they wanted to tell the people they were closest with. As they walked, Mae and Lea were arm-in-arm as they discussed Lea's vision for her dress. Despite his cluelessness about fashion, Alex couldn't have looked happier as he walked at Lea's side, their hands clasped tightly together.

Nolan and Oliver lingered behind somewhat. "Keep your mom and sister in check for me this week, will you, Nol?" Oliver asked as an amused look played on his face.

A frown creased the prince's forehead. "Where are you going?"

Oliver paused. After a heavy moment, he admitted, "Europe. I arranged a peace conference in the German Federation that all world leaders are going to be present at, including Russia and their allies."

Before Nolan could even ask to come, Oliver continued, "I need you to handle Illéa while I'm gone. You'll announce Lea's engagement the day I leave. I'm hoping it'll keep everyone adequately distracted."

"Of course," Nolan offered, although the color drained from his face and a heavy, tangled mess of nerves sprang up in his stomach at the prospect of handling an official announcement on his own. "I won't let you down."

Oliver gave him a tight smile before he squeezed the prince's shoulder. "I know you won't. I hope I don't let you guys down either."


	14. 97 Days Before

**Author's Note:** This is late, long, and such a plot heavy chapter. I'm sorry for my absence, I've had a lot going on with school and life, but all that is squared away so we are back to our regularly scheduled programming. Also, just wanted to assure everyone there will be much more Nolan in upcoming chapters, this one is pretty Oliver-centric. Please let me know what you think though as always, there's a lot to take in (:

* * *

The German Federation was a warzone, even amid the armistice that Oliver had managed to arrange. He had two days to fly to Europe, organize a treaty between the countries involved in active conflict, and deescalate the rising tensions in Africa and New Asia. He'd tried to do it for weeks from Angeles but had found that they were far past that point. Any permanent cease fire would be paid for dearly and negotiated brutally amongst the rulers.

Meanwhile, he was missing the announcement of his only daughter's engagement, which put Oliver in a foul mood as he glared out the window of the jet that carried him and the party he'd selected to the German Federation. Aside from Jonathan, who seemed determined to be glued to Oliver's side for the duration of the trip, General Gauge was the only other person brave enough to approach the moody king.

"Fifteen minutes to descent," Gauge announced. "We'll land in German territory, and then a car will take us to the neutral zone."

Oliver gave a curt nod. "Anything I can do to help?" Gauge asked, clearly concerned by Oliver's attitude.

The king heaved a sigh. "Can you get Ryder Illéa?"

Gauge hesitated. "Please, Cooper?" added Oliver. "I don't need your judgment about this. I already heard it all from Alaric this morning." The general grimaced before he departed to the lower level of the plane.

Oliver pulled a bottle of aspirin from his pocket as he reflected on his… conversation, for lack of a better word, with Alaric that morning. Even though the king's flight plans were always classified and well-guarded, when Alaric found out that his son would be accompanying Oliver for a meeting with Marid, Nikolai, and Regan, Ryder's father had voiced some strong opinions about it. The conversation had been a little heated, to say the least.

"Your Majesty?"

Ryder stood before him in his formal army uniform, his face excited. It was clear that he didn't share his father's misgivings about the trip. Ryder was one of a handful of soldiers that were accompanying the king and his generals on the trip, though his place was somewhat strategic on Oliver's part. The king couldn't fault Alaric for his anger at Ryder's inclusion, because truthfully, Oliver had realized what an advantage having the male Illéan heir on his side could be when going up against Marid.

"I just wanted to talk to you about a few things before we land," Oliver explained, gesturing to the seat across from him.

Ryder sat. "You mean… about Regan and Marid?"

"Yeah," admitted Oliver. "I think it's best if we… don't exactly publicize your presence for the time being. I don't want them to think you're part of any deals they might have in mind."

Ryder's blonde eyebrows furrowed. "They realize you can't make deals for people, right?" he chuckled.

"No," Oliver sighed, "They don't. I have a sneaking suspicion that this is just as much about you and me as it is Nikolai's desire to rule the world. Just do me a favor and keep your head down, alright? We'll just play this close to the vest for the time being."

Ryder nodded slowly, but he didn't move to leave. "Do you think you're going to be able to put an end to all of this?" he asked.

It was more than many people dared to ask their king, but there was something about Ryder that Oliver liked, so he shrugged. "I'm cautiously optimistic," Oliver replied. He had to be—because if he couldn't assuage Russia, a lot of people were going to die.

Their plane landed on time, and the Illéan party was whisked to the neutral zone in the French cars that Annalise had provided. As they sped through the German country side, Oliver was struck by their war-torn surroundings. While the German landscape had always been lush, green, and beautiful, now it was marred by crumbling structures and burned blast sites.

Overnight, camps had sprung up on the outskirts of the neutral zone. They had two days to reach a peace settlement, and Oliver didn't trust Nikolai or Marid enough to believe they would respect even a brief cease fire, so there was no camp for the Illéans, but Oliver had a feeling he'd be working through the night anyway. When his car slowed, he headed to the French tent instead, Generals Gauge and Zoltan at his heels and Jonathan flanking his side.

The French tent was already bustling, and Annalise, Raphael, and Mosi all rose to greet Oliver when he arrived. Oliver hugged his cousin before he shook hands with the Italian and Saharan rulers. "You're late," Annalise remarked, looking slightly annoyed with Oliver. Although they were first cousins, the French queen had always taken her role as heir far more seriously than Oliver had and tended to view her cousin as more as the rowdy playboy of his teenage years rather than the tempered ruler of present.

"What?" Oliver glanced around in confusion. "No, I'm not. The first meeting is at seven."

Annalise rolled her eyes. "The meeting was changed to five," she huffed, "Nikolai demanded. I called you this morning."

"Yes, because I could change my arrival time when I was already in flight," glared Oliver. "Damn it. Gauge, the rest of our security—"

"We're allowed four companions each, mio amico," Raphael interjected. "It's been agreed upon by all of the countries."

Oliver scowled, annoyed that he'd organized the entire day but had somehow been excluded from the details. "Fine," he snapped. "Zoltan, Gauge, you're with me. Jonathan, grab Ryder and meet us there."

Annalise grabbed his arm. "Ryder Illéa? Are you crazy?"

"The jury's out," Oliver admitted. "Ready?" The Italian prince and Saharan king nodded, and they strode from the tent with Annalise at their heels and still muttering about her insane cousin.

In the middle of the neutral territory sat an enormous white tent. The inside was simple but crowded. A single, round table with fourteen seats took up most of the space. Behind each seat at the table were four additional chairs. Food and drinks sat off to one side, but it seemed that no one trusted each other enough to partake in the libations. Rulers from all thirteen major countries were present in addition to the usually isolationist Australia.

The French, Illéan, Italian, and Saharan parties were among the last to arrive, although Oliver noticed that the Russians still weren't present. He found it thoroughly irritating, considering they had been the ones to change the time. Ryder and Jonathan joined them a few minutes later, his guard looking wary while the younger man appeared exhilarated. Oliver sat directly at a large circle table, his two generals behind him, and the new arrivals behind Gauge and Zoltan. There was a tense buzz of conversation as they waited on the Russians, but Oliver was silent, too annoyed and anxious for chitchat.

"Hey," Mosi elbowed his ally, "I heard congratulations are in order. Lea and Alex?"

"Finally," interjected Raphael.

A small smile pulled at the Illéan king's mouth. "Thanks," he replied, "We're excited, even if it is Alexander Havilland—"

He was cut off by the eruption of the most irritating, obnoxious, over-the-top chorus of fanfare that he'd heard since the Russians had visited Illéa for the Harvest Festival twenty-three years ago. Oliver's knuckles turned white as his fist clenched in irritation. He turned his gaze towards the tent entrance across from them.

Age had only slightly affected Nikolai, to Oliver's annoyance. Nikolai's hair was slightly tinged with gray, and he'd grown some questionable facial hair, but he still looked like he was in shape, and his face wasn't lined the way that Oliver felt someone of Nikolai's unsavoriness should've been. At his side, Regan was regal as ever. She wore a sparkling evening gown, and a cape lined with fur draped over her thin shoulders. Her posture was impeccable as always, and a diamond encrusted tiara sat atop her chocolatey brown hair. Her dark eyes looked cold as they scanned everyone else, and her full lips were already smirking at the rest of the room like she had the upper hand. A man that Oliver didn't recognize—probably a general—stood beside the tsarina.

The only solace that Oliver took in the Russian party was the fact that age had certainly touched Marid Illéa. His hair was thinning, and his stature looked smaller, a little more wearied. A lifetime of fighting for what didn't belong to him had seemed to have finally caught up to the man.

But when two additional members of the party entered, Oliver had to force himself not to turn to his longtime guard. Oliver assumed that the final man was Regan and Nikolai's son, Gregor. He had Regan's wavy dark hair, but there was something about his sharp bone structure that was distinctly reminiscent of Nikolai as well. The most disconcerting aspect of his presence were his eyes though: the shade of their vibrant blue was so like Ryder's that if they stood side by side, their relation would be immediately discernible.

Beside Gregor was the truly unexpected, fifth guest of the Russian company. After twenty-three years, Lady Sara Kosma, the infamous mistress of the Russian tsar and the girl who had stolen Jonathan's heart during her short stay in Illéa all those years ago, looked as youthful and beautiful as ever.

King Sebastian of Iberia was the first to take issue with the size of the Russian party. "We agreed on four companions each, Nikolai."

Nikolai's gaze narrowed on the Iberian king, who was five years younger than Oliver and had come to his throne only in the last two years. To his credit, Sebastian didn't waver under Nikolai's cold eyes. "What a greeting," noted Nikolai, "and you'll find that I enjoy use of my title, Sebastian."

Oliver rolled his eyes and stood. "You agreed to the party size, Your Imperial Majesty," Oliver ground out. "We can all either send for extra security, or you can dismiss someone."

Nikolai's eyes lost any animosity as they jumped to Oliver, a sadistic glee shining out of them at the appearance of his favorite target. "Oliver. It's been too long." The two men stared each other down, Nikolai making no effort to prescribe to the party limits.

Finally, Regan rolled her eyes and turned to Sara. "Meet us in the tent?" Sara nodded before she exchanged a look with Gregor and disappeared. It was a curious moment, as Oliver had never seen Regan be so cordial to her husband's mistress in any of their interactions before.

He didn't linger on the Russian interrelations though as he retook his seat. "Alright. Let's get started." Though he had no more authority than anyone else in the room technically, everyone nodded their agreement and took their seats before they deferred to the Illéan king.

A pit of nervousness coiled in Oliver's stomach. Any success was going to live and die on his shoulders.

* * *

Nolan sucked a shaky breath in through his lungs as he tried to force himself to look around his bathroom. He needed to find five things he could see.

But the problem was, Raina wasn't there to make him focus, and he couldn't see anything except for obscure, meaningless blurs.

He pressed his eyes shut. By the time he'd realized that Raina's methods weren't as effective without her around to keep him on track and that he needed his anxiety medicine, it was too late. Sweat beaded on his forehead, dampened his palms, and soaked through his button up shirt. His legs were jelly, so ineffectual that he had collapsed onto the marble floor of his bathroom. At the same time, his body felt rigid, like he was paralyzed. His heartbeat was racing, beating like a thundering chorus of drums in his ears and causing his head to pulse in unison with it. The bathroom was a million degrees, and he couldn't breathe.

Nausea flooded him as he struggled for breath. He kept his eyes closed to block out the dizzying world. If he could just stand to pluck the orange pill bottle from the medicine cabinet… if he could just see _anything_ … if he weren't so weak and useless…

A knock on the door caused his eyes to burst open. "Nolan?"

He knew he should recognize the voice, but it seemed impossible when his body was so out of his own control. "Go away," he ordered. Or tried to, at least. All that came out was a series of incoherent noises between his heaving gasps as he tried to pull his legs closer to his chest. He wanted to be smaller, to disappear if possible, and to be doing anything other than having a complete breakdown on his bathroom floor.

The doorknob wiggled, though Nolan didn't notice. His breath was coming in short bursts with far too many exhales, and the hyperventilation caused black dots to dance in front of his eyes. He didn't notice anything—except that it felt like the end of his world.

It didn't help when the door swung open. Being caught amid a panic attack was one of Nolan's greatest fears, worsened at the moment by the event that had triggered that day's episode, and he desperately grabbed at the edge of his bathroom counter to pull himself to his feet and not look so pathetic. He didn't notice that it was Calli who stood in the doorway with the bobby pins she had used to pick the lock in hand, only that someone had seen him at his most vulnerable.

But Calli swooped in to grab him before his frantic, jerky movements could result in any harm, her free hand already reaching for the medicine cabinet. She instructed him to breathe authoritatively as she turned on the faucet and helped him lower his mouth to it to wash down the lorazepam.

The de-escalation of an attack was always bittersweet. On one hand, there were few things as great as being able to breathe again and realizing that he was not, in fact, going to perish. But it also left him exhausted, embarrassed, and frustrated.

He rested his head against the cool countertop of the sink. He could feel the sweat drying on his body and the dampness of his shirt. Calli must have noticed it too, though if it bothered her, she didn't let on. Instead, she gripped him tightly, offering physical assistance in addition to the emotional support she always provided for her longtime friend.

When he could breathe normally and didn't feel like he was going to empty the contents of his stomach all over the bathroom anymore, Nolan embarrassedly mumbled, "Thanks, Cal."

"Are you okay?" Her tone was soft, the kind that those outside of her close group of friends would think her incapable of. It was a voice that betrayed concern for someone she loved, though it was underscored by her ever-present determination as well. She wanted to fix it, if she could. Calli had always been a fixer.

"It's stupid," he sighed as he finally lifted his head. The reflection that faced him in the mirror looked rough. The shirt was half un-tucked, the face was splotchy, the hair looked like it hadn't been brushed in days, the knuckles that gripped the counter were white.

"Is this about the announcement?" she asked.

Nolan's stomach swam as he thought of how he still had to survive Lea and Alex's engagement announcement that afternoon. His mother would be there, as would Alex and Lea, of course, but all official statements had been left to Nolan. Oliver had trusted him with this, and Nolan didn't want to let him down.

"No, surprisingly," Nolan admitted with a bitter laugh. "It was…" His voice failed him, and instead, he gestured to Calli to follow him back into his room. His laptop was still open on the coffee table, and he nodded at it.

As Calli's scanned the webpage, he watched her gaze narrow and her cheeks flush with indignation. "I can't be mad," Nolan remarked, "It was January Greenwood's prerogative to give an interview about her time here at the palace. I didn't know her well, and she didn't even say much about me, other than that I seemed stoic, which everyone thinks anyway. But…"

"It made you wonder if you could trust any of them," concluded Calli, "or if they would all give "exclusives" once they leave."

He nodded meekly. "I want to get to know people better," he confessed, "but it was hard enough before having to worry about this."

Calli put a hand on his arm. "You don't have to worry about _everyone_ ," she pointed out. "And if you are ever unsure, you can always ask me."

Nolan hesitated. "I know. But… well, you've just been busy lately, which I understand. It's just… you know, not outside the realm of possibility that we could both be fooled by someone we barely know."

A look flashed across Calli's face for the briefest moment. Nolan thought there was something sad about it, but when she turned to him, she seemed more apologetic than anything. "I know," she admitted, "which is part of the reason I came to see you today. I haven't been very good back up, have I?"

"You have a life too," Nolan began. The last thing he wanted was for Calli to feel guilty about focusing on her work at Pacifica.

"But the Selection is part of my life too," she sighed, "I wouldn't even _have_ Pacifica if you hadn't picked my form so I had to stay in Angeles. My dad would've shot that down faster than either of us could say 'unemployment.'"

They both chuckled, though neither sounded particularly amused. "Do you think I can trust any of them?" sighed Nolan.

"Of course," Calli responded. "Even if it doesn't work out… being vulnerable isn't the worst thing that you can do. You might… I don't know, learn something. About yourself, other people, the world…" She trailed off and shrugged, as though in deep thought.

Nolan's brow furrowed. "Are you feeling okay?" he checked. "Encouraging vulnerability… not really a 'Calliope Gauge' kind of sentiment."

Instead of laughing, she seemed uneasy as she stared down at her hands. "I had… a thing with Ryder," she admitted, flinching when Nolan's eyes turned into huge, shocked circles as realization flooded the prince.

"Is this why you really came to see me?" he asked. "Do you… you know, wanna leave? Because if you do, I get it—"

"No." Her answer was firm, the decisive type of response that those who knew Calli would expect from her. "It was nothing serious," Calli lied, "but… I don't know. It was nice to get to know someone. You deserve that too, you know, crown prince or not."

Nolan considered the sentence for a moment as he inspected Calli. Her eyes were focused, her face looked neutral, and there was no sign of a frown in her mouth or eyes. But there was something about her demeanor that troubled Nolan. "Are you sure it wasn't serious?" he asked, less concerned with what it meant for her position in the Selection than his friend's feelings.

Her smile was reluctant and a little forced, but Calli executed it assuredly. "Whatever it was, it's over." The confidence never wavered, like she meant the statement entirely, but she found the truth far more painful than her earlier dismissive lie about their seriousness of her feelings for Ryder.

She couldn't talk about herself anymore, so she reached for Nolan's hand. "I think you've done great so far," she assured him, "Murphy is a bit of a loose cannon, but clearly there's something there. Raina is so sweet, and Haven might be the smartest person I've ever met. If you want my opinion, maybe spend a little more time with Jay or Ernesta. They both seem like they have their heads on right. And maybe try again with Safiya. I think there's something you might relate to there, if you can get past the exterior."

Nolan nodded, drinking in the advice. "Thanks, Cal."

"Any time," she smiled, the first time the expression reached her eyes. "I promise I'll try to be more helpful in the future. But speaking of helpful, you might want to change and brush your hair or something. Lea's announcement is in like half an hour."

Another wave of anxiety threatened to overtake Nolan. He felt the color drain from his face. "I can do this," he muttered under his breath, though he didn't entirely believe it.

"Yes, you can," championed Calli. "Oliver trusted you to do this. He knows what he's doing, most of the time."

He thanked her once more before she left him alone. It took some time to pull himself together, but he was satisfied with the number he'd done on his hair and the backup suit that he found in his closet. He was fixing his cufflinks when his butler let his mother into the room.

The queen was dressed in a white gown with a cape detail and a diamond tiara. It was a simpler look, which Nolan suspected she had purposely done to not distract from Lea at all, but Mae still looked effortlessly elegant. "Ready?" she asked, the green eyes that she'd bequeathed to both of her children shining with excitement.

Nolan mustered every ounce of pseudo-confidence he possibly could. "Yes," he decided. He offered an arm to his mom, and the two made their way to the studio where the weekly _Report_ was filmed.

The engagement was already common knowledge, as Alex and Lea had both wanted to announce it on their own social medias to maintain a sense of normalcy, but the impromptu show would serve as the palace's official statement on the matter. A group of well-vetted reporters had been granted access as well so that a brief press conference could be held, with emphasis on the 'brief'. Lea was aware that the timing of her engagement was fortuitous considering Oliver's current absence, and though she usually tried to keep her relationship somewhat private, she'd been more than willing to help serve as a distraction from the important meetings that were being held overseas.

Nolan had written a speech, of course, and when he'd carefully navigated his way through it, his sister and future brother-in-law joined him on stage. Lea wore a blush pink, mermaid style gown as a smaller tiara crowned her brown waves, and while she was stunning as always, her ensemble didn't hold a candle to the look of pure elation that lit up her face as she clung to Alex's side. He looked a little nervous, as it was his first time on _The Report_ stage after watching it from the audience for years, but he seemed grounded in Lea's embrace. Cohen expertly directed a brief question and answer session, expertly avoiding any topic related to Oliver, and when they finished, Nolan didn't feel like it had gone half bad.

When the reporters had been shown out, both his mom and Uncle Tristan complimented Nolan on the way he handled the announcement and questions, and it might've been their support or his relief at being done with the show, but he felt encouraged enough to approach the Selected before his Aunt Celine could lead them back to the Women's Room.

"Lady Ernesta?"

A few faces fell when Nolan's gaze focused on the pilot. Ernesta looked pleasantly surprised at the attention. Her hand almost jumped up in a salute, but she caught herself and instead swept into a graceful curtsey, much improved from the last time Nolan had seen her perform the action. "Could I borrow some of your time?" Nolan asked.

"Of course," Ernesta smiled. She stepped away from the group to join him, and Nolan led her out of the studio. They didn't join arms or hands but walked at a comfortable distance.

"I don't really have any sort of plan," Nolan admitted. "I just thought it might be nice to hang out."

"Oh." Ernesta seemed surprised, but he couldn't tell if it was bad or good surprise. If she was caught off guard by his spontaneity, she didn't linger on it. "You handled the press conference really well," she informed him.

Nolan's shoulders relaxed, even though he hadn't realized they'd been tensed. "You really think so?"

She nodded. "It was really impressive. Especially without King Oliver around."

"Thanks," Nolan smiled. "That means a lot."

"Any time," she replied, her own face turned up in an easy smile as well.

Nolan paused. "I actually just had an idea," he admitted. "Can I show you something?"

"Of course," Ernesta agreed easily. Nolan held his hand out to her, and she took it easily, without drawing too much attention to the movement in a way that made him feel comfortable about it. He was a little excited as he led her through the halls.

The room that they entered was maybe an odd location for what he supposed was technically a date, but Ernesta's eyes were wide with wonder as she looked around. "This is the Hall of Records," Nolan explained, "which might be really boring, except…" He directed her towards the back of the room, which was dedicated to the Illéan military.

"Oh, my gosh," Ernesta gasped as she looked at the photos on the wall. The current chain of generals was pictured, as well as different photos from various bases and branches.

"This one is my favorite," Nolan admitted as he pulled a frame off the wall. In the photo, a twenty-three-year younger Oliver and Cooper Gauge smiled at the camera as the frames of buildings still in the process of being built looked behind them.

"Is that—?"

"Pacifica," Nolan explained. "It was sort of my dad's first kid. Lea and I always joke that it's the real first-born."

"That's incredible," Ernesta declared. "I remember hearing my mom and dad talk about the way that King Oliver built Pacifica and the navy out of nothing when I was younger. They made him seem like… well, don't laugh, but kind of a superhero."

"He's always seemed that way to me too," Nolan confessed as he inspected his father's face in the photo.

"You two seem close," Ernesta remarked.

"We are," Nolan confirmed as he carefully replaced the picture. "Are you close with your parents?"

Ernesta considered the question. "To an extent," she admitted, "They're a little… well, sort of controlling. You know—military parents."

"Ah, that's right," Nolan noted. He crossed to a nearby shelf and pulled an enormous tome into his arms. There was silence as he flipped through the book. "That would be… Lieutenant Colonel Hermes Effingham and Colonel Anna Effingham, right?"

"You could have asked," chuckled Ernesta, "but yep." She joined Nolan's side, and he showed her the pages that documented her parents. "That is kind of cool."

"Did you always want to be in the Air Force?" he asked. "Family tradition or something?"

She shrugged. "Something like that. It was pretty easy to figure out that's what my mom at least wanted me to do, so I just… did." She paused before adding, "Not that I dislike it, though. I love my squad, and I like the structure of the military."

Nolan relaxed somewhat. "I like structure too," he admitted.

"Speaking of the military…" Ernesta looked up at Nolan, and for the first time, he realized that her eyes were more green than blue. He almost remarked that they were pretty, but he decided to hold back as he awaited her question. "I don't know if you can talk about it, and if you can't, I understand," Ernesta assured him, "but there's just been a lot of… chatter, I guess."

"About what's been going on overseas?"

She nodded in confirmation. "I mean, you get into the Air Force or any other branch knowing it's a possibility," she admitted, "I guess it just makes me nervous that our egos might be writing checks our bodies can't cash."

Despite the serious conversation, a smile tugged at Nolan's mouth. "A _Top Gun_ reference?"

"It's kind of cliché," admitted Ernesta, "but it's a good one."

"That doesn't seem like something my dad would do," Nolan countered. "I know Russia knows how to press his buttons, but this impacts the entire world, so I'm pretty confident he's going to come back with something worked out."

Ernesta's shoulders seemed to relax slightly. "Well, if you're confident, then I am too," she decided, "Guess you're technically commander in chief right now, with the King away."

"Don't remind me," Nolan requested.

Ernesta shut the record book and slid it back into its place on the shelf. "Can I show you something that I really like other than my job?" she asked.

He considered the question briefly. "What did you have in mind?"

"One word," Ernesta declared, her eyes sparkling, "Cheesecake."

* * *

Peace negotiations had never been of much interest to Ryder. Raina was the pacifist of the siblings, as Ryder preferred more straightforward ways to solve issues (usually, his fists). But even with his limited experience, Ryder was pretty sure that this was not how such discussions were supposed to go.

The first issue was that while everyone had agreed to the meetings, no one seemed remotely interested in conceding anything. Russia refused to relinquish any of their stolen territories. The German Federation demanded extensive remuneration for the damage that had been done to their country. Sahara and Central Africa couldn't reach an agreement on the border disputes that had plagued their countries for decades. All in all, it was a bit of a mess.

While Oliver tried to be calm and collected in the beginning of the meeting, as the hours dragged on, Ryder saw the king began to break down. By midnight, he had abandoned his coat and tie, rolled up his sleeves, and was on his third cup of coffee. Some of the other rulers seemed ready to call it a night, but Oliver was insistent, if not somewhat frantic. They had two days, and the first seven hours had been useless.

Nikolai, similarly, seemed eager to continue his problematic ways for as long as Oliver would tolerate them. "Oliver, why don't we begin our discussions?" the tsar offered around 1 AM. Ryder tried not to frown. He'd noticed throughout the meetings the Russians seemed to occasionally toss in little jabs at Oliver, such as ignoring his title, as if to undermine the Illéan king. It was frustrating for Ryder, who had realized he rather looked up to his king.

Everyone, aside from Central Africa and West New Asia, seemed surprised by the proposal. Oliver glanced at General Gauge, who looked equally perplexed. "Do we have reason to negotiate?" Oliver asked. "In case you forgot, Illéa is a neutral party and has no formal dispute with Russia."

"And yet you have made it your business to attempt to regulate our activity," Nikolai sneered.

"It's true, Oliver," Marid agreed. "Neutral you may be but uninvolved you are not."

Perhaps it was being around Marid, who had never been the father he should have been to Alaric, or just the general condescending demeanor of the Russian party, but the constant derision had grown to be too much. Ryder promptly forgot about Oliver's instruction to keep his head down. "I believe it's 'King Oliver' or 'His Majesty' to you," Ryder interjected, his voice cold.

Everyone at the table paused. Aside from Marid or the generals, he was the first non-royal party to speak, only slightly surprising since Ryder had never been very good at thinking before he spoke. As Marid regarded Ryder, his eyes narrowed. "Of course," he finally replied, though he made no attempt to amend his address of Oliver. "Would the rest of you be so kind as to give us the room?"

The other leaders hesitated. None of the negotiations had been secret thus far, so it seemed an odd request. They deferred to Oliver, who regarded the Russian party for a long, heavy silence before he inclined his head minorly. "Any treaty will be available for review, as all public documents are," he reasoned.

Slowly, the tent emptied until it was only the ten members who made up the Russian party. While the room was substantially less crowded, the uncomfortable tension had expanded to fill the space. When they were alone, none of the Russians moved to begin discussions.

In fact, they seemed reinvigorated by the distrustful, edgy vibe in the tent. Nikolai lit a cigarette, Marid fixed himself a drink, and Regan shrugged off her fur coat. Marid returned with another drink for the tsarina, whose gaze was firmly focused on Ryder. Unsure of what to do, he glared back at the woman. In his life, Regan Illéa had always something of a myth, a cruel monster that had brought ruin on their name. He'd never given much thought to meeting her in person, but the situation had caused a pit of a resentment to simmer within him.

"You're my brother's son," she finally declared.

He was so surprised that he couldn't stop his expression from giving him away. He saw Oliver's shoulders tense, which caused Ryder to grimace in response. So much for keeping his head down. Since there was little else he could do, he held Regan's indecipherable gaze. "How'd you know?"

Regan smiled, an action that made her distinctive difference in appearance from Alaric even more prominent. While Alaric's smile was like a warm hug that exuded comfort, Regan's was an unnerving enigma that made her seem like she was unquestionably in control of the situation. "I spent an entire childhood with Alaric," she pointed out, "I think I'd know his son." Something that almost resembled sadness flashed across her face. "You have the Illéa eyes."

"He looks like Alaric," Marid agreed, his tone dismissive. While Regan seemed intrigued, Marid appeared nonplussed, even somewhat angry. "No doubt his father's son."

Ryder's brow hardened into a scowl. "That's right." Oliver's eyes fluttered skyward in a "God help me" type of expression.

"What I don't understand," Regan continued, her gaze flitting to the king in front of Ryder, "is why you brought him?"

In Oliver's pause, Ryder found himself wondering the same thing. There were scores of other soldiers that could have been part of the king's party, many of which were surely more qualified or at least capable than Ryder. Yet here he was. He thought back to what Oliver had said on the plane, that he didn't want the Illéas to see him as a bargaining chip, and wondered briefly if that was entirely true.

"I'll let you wonder at that a little longer," Oliver decided. "I'm here to negotiate a peace treaty, not facilitate a family reunion." It sounded confident, enough to put Ryder at ease, so he gave a firm nod of agreement, and Regan reluctantly turned her gaze from her nephew to her husband.

"Russia stands to lose much by this 'peace,'" Nikolai scoffed. The tsar's demeanor was difficult to pin down, like a color that flitted between different shades, undertones, and finishes when exposed to even the slightest change in illumination. Nikolai's amusement seemed to give way to his cruelty, his anger walked hand in hand with his confidence, and his stubbornness was too closely entwined with his narcissism.

At Nikolai's side, his highest-ranking general heaved an exasperated sigh that caught Ryder off-guard. He couldn't imagine General Gauge or Zoltan acting so annoyed towards Oliver. The general must have been close to his wit's end with the Russian tsar. "Would you just tell him your requests?" he demanded. "We've been here for hours already. I have an entire army waiting for my instruction if you can't figure this out."

Regan barely repressed her smirk as the tsar and general glared at each other. Marid, on the other hand, plucked a document from the stack in front of Nikolai and tossed it across the table to Oliver. "General Siska is right. These are the terms of an alliance between Russia and Illéa," he explained.

There was a tense, electric silence as Oliver scanned the document. Regan seemed to be holding her breath as she watched Oliver, while Nikolai impatiently tapped his fingers against the table.

The focus on Oliver gave Ryder a chance to study his cousin, Gregor. Ryder had always been confident enough to admit when another man was attractive, and Gregor certainly was. He had curly, dark brown hair, prominent bone structure, broad shoulders. The "Illéa eyes" that Regan had mentioned must have been an actual trait, because it seemed that Gregor's blue irises were quite similar to his own.

But the cousins' demeanors seemed to be where they differed monumentally. While Ryder was impulsive and teasing, often casual and laid-back, Gregor seemed more calculated, though not in the same way as Prince Nolan. Gregor was extremely quiet and appeared to watch everyone else's reactions before expressing his own, almost like an abused pet that had been conditioned to choose the path of least resistance.

And while Ryder wasn't always the most observant, one of the things that he found most interesting about Gregor and couldn't possibly miss was the way that Gregor watched his mother, despite everyone else's attention on Oliver. Even Regan didn't seem to notice, but Gregor stared at her with something that almost seemed like amazement shining out of his blue eyes. It was like he couldn't look at her enough, and while most of the Russians treated each other with some form of disdain or carelessness, it was obvious that Gregor at least idolized her to an extent.

Ryder jumped when Oliver dropped the papers back onto the table with a heavy slam, tearing his gaze from Gregor. "This agreement hinges on a marriage between my daughter and your son," he announced, "but I'm sure you've heard that Lea is recently engaged."

Nikolai's eyes glinted excitedly, as though he had hoped to extort such a reaction from his adversary. "Are you saying my son isn't good enough for your daughter?"

"She's engaged to a commoner, Oliver," Regan pointed out. "Such engagements are easily broken. Princess Leanna would be a tsarina one day if she married Gregor, empress of all Russia. This creates an _alliance_." Ryder thought there was a hint of desperation in her voice, an opinion that Marid might have shared from the way he inspected her.

Although he'd heard stories that it hadn't always been the case, Oliver had always seemed level-headed to Ryder, so the younger man was shocked when the king stood so abruptly that his chair clattered to the ground. "No," he countered, "this creates an opportunity for you to get my son out of the way and use Lea to deliver Illéa right into your hands. Do you think I'm an idiot?" There was a fire in his voice, like the Illéas had taken it too far this time.

"Are you accusing us of conspiring to commit regicide?" Nikolai asked. He was a madman, clearly ecstatic, like he couldn't wait for Oliver to level such an accusation at him.

Before Oliver could respond, General Gauge put a hand on the king's arm. "Your Majesty."

Oliver glared down at the general. "I'm not selling my daughter in marriage, especially not one that puts a target on my son's back," he snapped.

"Your son was born heir to the throne, there will always be a target on his back," Marid proclaimed with a roll of his eyes.

Oliver's eyes snapped up. "Is that a threat?"

"No, it's a harsh reality," Marid retorted. "This alliance gives your son another ally—a powerful ally."

General Zoltan, who had been quietly perusing the document, spoke up. "Since Princess Leanna is already engaged and therefore unavailable to fulfill the terms of this agreement even if His Majesty so desired, surely there is a different course of action that might be practical for both countries and would garner similar results?" he suggested.

Oliver shot a shocked look at his number two general. "There are good points in this document," Zoltan admitted to his king. "Russia would be willing to defend Illéa in the even that they faced aggression from this war, and it would be willing to cede maritime territory in the South Pacific."

Nikolai and Marid exchanged a look, though Regan's face blanched for the briefest moment before she straightened her mask. "We would be willing to forgo the marriage," Marid agreed, "so long as the Illéas were reinstated into the line of succession before the de Sauvettere-Schreave branch."

There was a mirthless laugh from the Illéan king. "So you have a reason to simply eliminate my entire line instead of just my son?" he scoffed. "Not likely. Tristan and Isolde were the last Schreaves you're ever going to hurt."

Marid sighed. "Still blaming us for that terrible plane accident?"

"I hear it worked out," Nikolai interjected with a smirk. "Didn't your brother and his wife end up buying a brat? I heard he's terribly ill-bred, but I suppose beggars can't be choosers—"

"Oh, enough," General Siska sighed. Nikolai glowered at the general for his interruption, but the military man either didn't notice or didn't care. "Is this a formal rejection of our offer?" He directed the question to Oliver, and though he was clearly on the Russian side, his demeanor seemed less spiteful than the tsar's and more tired. "I'd caution you that Russia is well prepared for war, Your Majesty."

"And I would remind you all that Illéa is not at war with Russia," General Gauge countered.

"Not yet." Nikolai smirked as he lit another cigarette. "Why not set the precedent, Oliver? Take our deal first, and the other countries will fall in line."

"That's not how negotiations work," Oliver ground out.

"That's how _these_ negotiations are going to work," challenged Nikolai. The tsar and the king locked eyes as a silent battle waged between the two. While their pride and mutual disdain for each other was a large part of it, the two rulers also had very different motivations. Nikolai had always been propelled by his greed. Back when he was the spare, he had wanted the Russian crown enough to murder his older brother. Now, he wanted the world. This desire clashed monumentally with Oliver's drive, which had always been to protect the people he loved—including his subjects.

Oliver stood. "You are tsar of Russia, and I encourage you to make that your priority. You can't rule the world, Nikolai—no matter what Marid's told you." His angry gaze disdainfully skipped to the Illéa patriarch. Marid didn't smirk as openly as Nikolai, but there wasn't an ounce of concern in his eyes.

"We're not taking this 'deal,'" Oliver declared. The rest of the party rose to their feet behind their king, though Ryder could see the concern written in General Zoltan's stony expression and the disappointment in General Gauge's. Oliver's mood was dangerous as they strode from the tent, and people jumped out of his way as they made their way back to the French encampment.

Ryder paused as the king and the generals disappeared into a new tent. As soon as the flap fluttered shut, there was the sound of a breaking glass accompanied by an almost sinister tone that Ryder had never heard from the king. He glanced at Jonathan. "Should we…?"

Jonathan looked distracted. "Could give them a moment," he admitted, "Do you want to grab something to…"

He trailed off, and Ryder spun around to follow his gaze. The Russians had left the tent as well, and while Marid, Regan, and Nikolai were nowhere to be seen, Gregor stood a few feet away. He was in deep conversation with the woman that had initially appeared with the party. She was an attractive woman with inky black hair, bright eyes, and an attractive frame that wore a luxurious blue gown and fur coat. She appeared to be a little older, probably closer to Jonathan and Oliver's ages than Ryder's, and she fretted over Gregor with an almost motherly concern.

"Who's that?" Ryder asked.

Jonathan opened his mouth and closed it a few times before he swallowed deeply and furrowed his brow. "Lady Sara Kosma. She's-she's a Russian countess."

Ryder rose an eyebrow. "Do you know her?"

"I did," Jonathan noted, "A long time ago."

While Jonathan usually intimidated Ryder, the younger man could clearly see the older one's current turmoil and was unable to bite his tongue. "You should go say hi to her," Ryder suggested.

Jonathan shot him a glare, and Ryder held his hands up defensively. "Just an idea. Or you could stay here and gawk, that works too."

"No," Jonathan decided, although Ryder could see the way that his burly shoulders fell at his own determination. "It's not… I mean, she's the tsar's mistress anyway."

Before Ryder even had a chance to be surprised at this new piece of information, a voice behind them declared, "Was."

Both turned quickly in surprise. Jonathan's eyes narrowed. "Tsarina Regan."

Regan ignored the greeting. "She _was_ the tsar's mistress," she repeated. "Affairs have fallen out of style at Russian court. Most of Lady Kosma's time has been devoted to the tsarevich's upbringing since her return to Russia."

In Ryder's opinion, there were a lot of questions to be gleaned from Regan's statement. Why did she sound oddly fond of the tsar's mistress? Why had affairs even been _in_ style at Russian court? Why did they fall out? What was Regan doing if Sara was raising Gregor? But the only one Jonathan asked was, "And why are you telling me this?"

Regan's face was guarded, reminding Ryder of Gregor's constant expression. All she offered was, "My nephew is right. You should say hello. No one lives forever, and you may not get a third chance." Without another word, she sauntered towards the Russian area of camp.

"She really freaks me out," Ryder declared when he was alone with Jonathan.

The guard looked pensive. "Do you think…?" He paused. "Twenty-three years is a long time."

"That's what everyone keeps saying," Ryder remarked, "You, my dad, Oliver. But so what, man? If there was something there, it's not going to just disappear. If she means that much to you, man up and show her."

Jonathan looked at Ryder for a moment, and the young Illéa would have been wondering if the enormous guard was going to hit him if his thoughts weren't thoroughly preoccupied. As he'd delivered his hype up speech to Jonathan, a singular name had formed in his head, and now all he was thinking of was how much he couldn't wait to see her, to tell her how he felt regardless of how idiotic it might be, as soon as he returned to Illéa.

But Jonathan didn't hit him, and after a long moment of contemplation, he squared his shoulders and crossed the lawn towards the noblewoman. Ryder didn't stick around to see how it went for very long, but the way that Sara gently pulled the guard into her arms made Ryder feel encouraged about the situation and even oddly gave him hope for his own reunion with Calli—until he remembered that the negotiations had, thus far, been an enormous failure.


	15. 95 Days Before

**Author's Note:** I am so sorry that it's been so long. As many of you know, I'm in law school, and have been working a lot between internships and classes, so life has been crazy. Please be assured I fully intend to finish both this story and Thorns though. I love these characters and the story I have planned for them. Unfortunately, this is kind of a filler chapter, but I hope you enjoy, and I promise to have the next update for you much sooner than this one. As always, your reviews and messages and interest keep me motivated, and thank you to everyone who reads.

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Chapter 14: 95 Days Before

There was no announcement when Oliver returned, and as a result, Nolan was irritated when he heard about it passing from a butler. He'd thought that his mother would tell him, or Oliver himself would stop by to let his heir know how the peace conference had gone. After all, Nolan would be the ruler of Illéa one day and stood to lose just as much, if not more, than his father if they were drawn into war.

"Excuse me," he called, stopping the butler who had mentioned the kings name. The man paused and bowed to the prince. "Did you say that you were taking that to the King?"

"Yes, Your Highness," the butler confirmed.

"When did he return?" Nolan asked, his irritation growing.

"Only a few hours ago, Your Highness."

Nolan thanked the man and let him on his way, a frown dampening his face. He had been on his way to Raina's room, but suddenly, his plans for the day—his usual anxiety calming activity with Raina, a lunch with Jay, and perhaps a game night with a few of the girls—no longer seemed important. He felt bad for canceling, of course, but if Oliver wasn't going to keep him in the loop willingly, he was going to have to show his father that he demanded to be involved.

He stopped outside his parents' room and took a minute to collect himself. He was dressed in a pair of slacks and a button-up shirt and suddenly felt insecure about the fact that he'd decided to forgo a tie that morning. It had seemed practical—Raina never minded if he was a little more casual—but now he felt sloppy and poorly put together.

The door swung open before he had a chance to knock, startling Nolan. He was even more surprised when he was met with the face of Aunt Kaitlyn. "Nolan," she smiled, "Sorry if I scared you."

"It's fine," he offered. "Uh, are my mom and dad here?"

He didn't need to answer because his mother appeared at Kaitlyn's side. "Nollie!" she beamed. "How are you?"

"Fine," he repeated, feeling a little antsy. "Is Dad here? I heard he's back, but no one came to get me or has said anything about how things went."

"He's sleeping," Mae explained. As if to underscore her point—and the fact that Nolan would not be speaking with his father at that moment—she stepped into the hall and pulled the door shut behind her. "Did you need something?"

For a moment, he almost snapped that it was nothing she could help him with. But he reminded himself that his mother didn't deserve that kind of sass and sighed, "I just wanted to know how everything went."

"I see." Mae nodded but didn't elaborate on anything. Kaitlyn, for her part, avoided Nolan's face, like she didn't want to give anything away on accident. Instead of addressing his concerns at all, Mae's face brightened. "Hey, I have an idea."

Nolan perked up, thinking she was going to direct him towards General Gauge or perhaps Uncle Tristan for details regarding their current foreign affairs. Instead, he found himself immensely disappointed when she declared, "We should have a barbecue."

"A barbecue," he echoed her. "Uh, Mom, is this the time…?"

"Of course," she beamed. She gestured towards the enormous window at the end of the hall that filled the corridor with natural light. "It's a beautiful day! And we haven't gotten to spend nearly enough time with you and Lea or anyone lately. We could even invite the Selected!"

He cringed. "Did Grandmother Eadlyn spend time with you when you were a Selected?" he asked, feeling nervous about the situation that she seemed so excited about.

"I'd like to think I'm a much more hands on parent than your grandmother," countered Mae. She paused before she added in a low voice, "And not nearly as intimidating."

Kaitlyn raised her eyebrows. "Yes, who would ever be intimidated by a queen who still looks like she's twenty-five and heads a million charities while having the perfect family?" she quipped.

"I'm with Aunt Kaitlyn on this one," Nolan declared.

"Oh, stop," Mae ordered. "I'm approachable," she insisted, in the determined voice that rarely resulted in people challenging her. Kaitlyn and Nolan exchanged looks that suggested their point had been proved. "It will be great," Mae continued, "and I'm sure your father will be equally as excited."

It was the selling point for Nolan. If he could catch Oliver in a good mood and unencumbered by work for five minutes, he might be able to out how the peace conference had gone. "Fine," he relented with a sigh. "Should I invite everyone?"

Mae considered it. "There are still a lot of girls left," she pointed out, "and I want to invite some of our family friends, so why don't each of you kids just invite someone? Six girls sounds manageable. It'll give Oliver and I chance to talk to everyone!"

Kaitlyn laughed at the daunted expression on Nolan's face. "Good luck," she told him with a pat on his shoulder before she departed.

"You're expected to be there too!" Mae called after Kaitlyn, who waved her off. Then she gave him an encouraging smile before she made her way down the hall as well, most likely to the kitchens to get their feast started.

Nolan sighed as he watched her depart. If there was one thing that Nolan hated, it was secrets. The irony had never been lost on him that his parents kept them best. He'd spent years wondering if he'd tripped into being the heir by default due to his age. There were constant secrets about his parents' relationship with the Russians. They'd even kept their history with the Illéas secret.

Now, they couldn't afford to have secrets. Nolan would play their game, go to their ridiculous barbecue, but he was determined to get the truth out of them about how the peace conference had gone one way or another.

He was distracted as he walked into Lea's room. She lounged on the couch with Kingsley and Alex, her face buried in a wedding magazine while the other two watched a movie. It looked like a war movie and made Nolan's stomach churn with anxiety. "Mom and Dad are being weird," he declared, his face turned down in a frown as he flopped onto a free space on the couch.

"Oh?" Lea looked unimpressed, barely glancing up from her magazine. Nolan often thought perfectly innocuous things were suspicious, so she'd learned to take her brother's assessments with a grain of salt.

"Dad didn't even tell me he was back from the German Federation, and when I asked Mom, she didn't say anything about how it went and decided we should just have a barbecue instead," explained Nolan. It sounded even more ridiculous to him when he repeated it.

This, at least, piqued Kingsley's interest. While Oliver tended to withhold concerning information from his children, a World War was not a situation that permitted any coyness, particularly where the future ruler was concerned. "Nothing about mobilization?" the soldier asked. "Or if there was any de-escalation?"

Nolan was grateful that someone else seemed interested in his lack of information. "No," he frowned. "Dad was napping, and Mom was creepily upbeat."

"Well, it's not like your parents would be free to have a barbecue if we were on the verge of a world war, right?" Alex pointed out, always the voice of optimism.

Nolan's frown deepened, an expression that was mirrored on Kingsley's face, but Lea suddenly dropped her magazine. "Wait, did you say a barbecue?"

"Uh, yeah," confirmed Nolan, "but that wasn't really the important—"

Lea jumped to her feet in an instant, disappearing into her walk-in closet. "I have the _perfect_ outfit!" she squealed from inside the closet's depths.

"Lee, I don't think this is going to be a _Gone with the Wind_ kind of barbecue," Alex called after her.

Nolan heaved a dramatic sigh. "That reminds me. Mom wants us each to invite one of the Selected so that she and Dad can "get to know them better.""

Another excited exclamation came from the closet, like this was the best news Lea had heard all day. "I'm bringing Cheryl," Lea declared. "She's sweet and fun."

Nolan's mind started methodically sorting through his options, trying to decide who he'd invite. If he knew his mom, every person who enjoyed an open invitation to the palace would be present, which meant family, long-time friends, and politically prominent figures. It wouldn't be as structured and serious as a ball, but that didn't mean that the pressure still wouldn't be on. He'd concocted a short list of potential names when Alex interrupted his thoughts and derailed his plan.

"I think I'm going to invite Raina," his future brother-in-law decided.

Disappointment flooded Nolan. He'd been on the verge of inviting her, partially to make up for canceling their plans that morning and partially because she was quickly becoming one of the easiest people for him to be around. "I didn't realize you guys were friends," Nolan noted.

Alex shrugged casually. "We've gone to St. Sebastian's for mass together a few times," he explained. "I like her."

Nolan thought about how Raina and Alex were always the last to eat at meals, since they paused for prayer before, and felt unobservant for not noticing their religious connection earlier. "What about you, Kings?" he asked as he restarted his process of elimination. "Calli?"

Kingsley's dark brow furrowed. "Uh… no," he decided. Everyone else turned questioning looks on him, given that they all knew that Kingsley and Calli were best friends. "We… have a lot going on right now," Kingsley shrugged evasively. He cleared his throat and stood. "And I actually should be getting back to Pacifica anyway."

Lea emerged from her closet and turned her sweet, doe-like eyes on Kingsley. "But Kings, it wouldn't feel right without you and Cal," she pouted. Nolan briefly considered pointing out that Calli would likely be invited with her father even if Kingsley didn't bring her but decided against it, since he wanted his cousin present too.

There were few people that could move Kingsley once his mind was decided, but fortunately, Lea fell right at the top of that short list. He sighed. "I guess I could invite Calli."

"Perfect!" beamed Lea. "That just leaves you, Nol."

"I'm working on it," he muttered elusively. He pulled out his phone to text Orlando and Bayer about the plans, his frown deepened by Bayer's response of a string of suspicious emoticons.

Lea spun into the room dressed in a tea-length white dress with a fluffy skirt and flutter sleeves. She was taking the engaged thing very seriously and had recently forsaken her usual blush pink tones for shades of white, as if she was testing what hue would suit her best for her wedding day. "This is going to be so much fun," she beamed. "I wonder if Aunt Celine is going to bring Thomas," she added, in reference to their aunt's rockstar boyfriend. "I want to ask if his band will play the wedding."

"I think this is my cue to leave," Nolan declared. Once Lea entered wedding talk mode, there was no slowing her down. "I'll see you guys later."

"We can meet you guys in the foyer," Alex suggested.

He agreed before he headed back to his own room. Never a fan of confrontation, he wrote letters to Raina and Jay apologizing for having to reschedule their plans. Then, as he still hadn't settled on someone to invite to the barbecue, he penned a generic invitation to join him tonight. He figured it would be acceptable, as it allowed him some flexibility with his invitee. If he saw someone while delivering Raina and Jay's letters and decided he wanted to spend more time with her, the note would be perfect.

Armed with his correspondences, he headed towards the Selected's floor. Usually, the hall was quiet during the day, as he'd noticed the girls tended to spend time in the Women's Room or more entertaining areas of the castle like the libraries, theaters, or grounds. He delivered Raina and Jay's letters to their maids without issue and sighed as he stared down the long hall of doors.

There were girls that he clearly wanted to invite because he was comfortable with them—girls like Raina and, for all her sarcasm and bite, Murphy. There were girls that he was intrigued by and wanted to get to know more—like Haven. But he realized that as the Selection progressed, he needed to branch out. It wasn't fair to keep girls that he'd hardly spoken to at the castle for very long. Despite the financial compensation, their lives were essentially on hold while they were there. He needed to make decisions.

Somehow, in his musings, he realized he'd stopped outside Safiya Ali's room. He swallowed deeply before he raised his hand to knock on the door. Safiya was beautiful, of course, but she intimidated him. Nolan needed to find out if there was more under the intimidation, or if he could release her to return to her life of glamour and fame. Of all the girls, she was one who would surely be alright if she did not progress further in the Selection.

"Could you deliver this to Lady Safiya when she returns?" Nolan asked the maid that answered the door.

The maid took the letter but hesitated. "Lady Safiya is in if you'd like to speak to her, Your Highness," she added in a squeaky voice. Clearly, Nolan wasn't the only one who got nervous on occasion.

"Uh…"

But before he could make a decision one way or the other, the girl in question appeared at the door. "Thank you, Ingrid, that's all," she dismissed her maid before turning a smile on Nolan. It was an intriguing smile, lips closed and just upturned at the edges. It was a confident but unreadable smile. "It's nice to see you, Your Highness," she announced with a perfectly executed curtsy.

Nolan had never realized how tall she was. They stood about eye level, and he wondered if she was perhaps an inch or so taller. He tried to tell himself that her inky black hair gave her some extra height.

He knew that he should respond, but he was still caught a little off guard, so it was a relief when she added, "Would you like to come in? I just sent for tea, and it's still warm."

He nodded and followed her into the room. Since all of the Selected's quarters were uniform, it looked exactly like Raina, save the odd little bits of personalization, and that made him feel a little more comfortable. She led him to a table where a tea tray sat and began gathering bits of stationary.

"Writing to family?" he asked, finding his voice.

Rhiannon gave a gentle laugh. "No," she countered, "Fan letters. I get so many, but I try to respond to the children." She paused and poured Nolan a cup of tea. "I'm sure you know what that's like."

Nolan took a big gulp—regretting it instantly because of the heat—before he responded. "Not really," he admitted, "I mean, I know the palace gets correspondence, but my father and I don't respond to any of them."

"No?" Safiya asked. "But I'm sure you both have so many admirers."

Nolan gave an awkward laugh. "Maybe," he allowed, "but we don't really have time to go through them. And we can't sign anything anyway. I guess it's a security issue in case someone tries to copy our signature."

"Oh. I never thought of that," Safiya admitted with a soft smile.

"Hazard of the job," shrugged Nolan as he stared into his tea.

"Are there many of those?" Safiya asked, sounding both interested and sympathetic.

Nolan didn't see any point in lying to any of the Selected about the difficulties that might await them as queen. "Sort of," he confessed. "You get used to them, though, I think." He paused before he added, "Mom did, at least."

"She's a remarkable lady," Safiya noted.

"She's, uh, actually having a barbecue tonight," Nolan added, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "That's kind of why I came. I thought you might… well, I wasn't sure or anything, but I thought I'd ask if you wanted to come. With me."

Safiya's dark eyebrows gently arched for a second before the closed mouth smile returned to her face. "I would be honored."

"Great." Despite his full cup of tea, he stood, feeling both relieved and even more anxious somehow. He'd solved his current issue only to present himself with the prospect of an entire evening of trying to get to know someone. "It's not really a big deal, just some family and a few of the other Selected. I'll stop by and meet you around six?"

She agreed, and at six o'clock exactly, Nolan was knocking on Safiya's door once more. She answered it promptly, dressed in a black wrap dress that accentuated her waist. Her dark hair was pulled back, a silver leaf shaped hair comb tucked into it. She wore flat black sandals, and Nolan wondered if she'd noticed their lack of height difference as well.

They were silent on their way to the entrance hall, but he didn't have to worry about filling the silence as soon as Cheryl saw them. "I'm so glad you guys are here!" she beamed. While someone else's sincerity about being glad to see Nolan with another member of the Selected might've been doubted, Nolan didn't think Cheryl had ever once for one moment in her life been ingenuine, particularly about her emotions.

"Excited for the barbecue?" he asked. "I made sure there were plenty of dessert options for you this time."

Her enormous smile somehow got even bigger. It was a smile that betrayed every emotion she felt, so unlike Safiya's. Nolan liked them both, but in different ways and for different reasons, and that confused him.

"I've got to try them all then!" she declared. "Get excited, Lea, we're ruining your wedding diet."

"Congratulations on your engagement, by the way, Your Highness," Safiya smiled at Lea, seeming pleased to find an opportunity to engage the princess in conversation.

As she usually did, Lea was sucked into wedding conversation. With Safiya and Cheryl thoroughly engaged by his sister, Nolan took the chance to approach Raina, who was looking at a painting in the foyer with Alex.

"Hey, can I have a second?" he asked Alex. His future brother-in-law nodded and left them alone without making a big deal about it, like his sister would have, which Nolan appreciated.

Raina was wearing a fluffy light blue skirt and a light grey, short sleeve sweater top. Her dark hair tumbled around her shoulders in curls, and her delicate features were relaxed. It didn't seem like she was mad at Nolan for cancelling without notice earlier, but he apologized nonetheless. "I'm really sorry about this morning. I hope you're not upset."

"Just disappointed I didn't get to see you," she countered, her cheeks slightly flushed. "Is everything okay?"

It was the perfect response, exactly what Nolan hadn't realized he had wanted to hear. "Just some stuff with my dad and Russia," he explained. "He's being evasive, and it's kind of got me worried."

"Everything will be okay," she assured him, reading out to give him a soft pat on the arm. Before her hand could retreat, as she knew that Nolan didn't often like being touched for very long, he caught her hand in his impulsively.

"I have to socialize tonight," he explained, "but knowing my mom, there will be fireworks. Find me? We can make s'mores. It's kind of one of my special skills."

Her smile grew even wider. "I can't wait."

Bayer and Orlando both appeared with their guests. Orlando had brought Freida, but Nolan was somewhat surprised to see Rhiannon clutching Bayer's arm. His cousin looked amused, like he knew something that no one else did. Nolan decided not to be too concerned with Bayer for the moment though. It was best to let Bayer's messes play out in their own time.

After everyone had greeted each other, they descended into the grounds. Even on short notice, Mae had turned the gardens into a wonderland. There were fairy lights everywhere, little candles hanging from trees and adorning tables. The kitchen had clearly been hard at work. While the smell of barbecue wafted through the grounds, there were also tables of desserts and sides, including a full bar. There were games, a fire pit, and numerous familiar faces lounging around.

Nolan glanced at Safiya, who had rejoined his side after he'd left Raina and Alex. "Uh, have you met my parents, officially?" he asked.

Safiya's dark eyes lit up. "I haven't had the pleasure," she admitted.

His mother and father were alone, so Nolan hoped that he'd be able to distract his mother with Safiya and get his dad to spill some details. He pulled Safiya towards them, clearly a little more quickly than she'd expected as she had to do a little hop to keep pace with him initially.

"Hey, Mom, Dad," he greeted them.

Mae's face lit up when she saw that he had a member of the Selected with him. "Hi, sweetheart," she beamed, "Who is this?"

"Uh, Mom, Dad, Safiya," he introduced them quickly. "Safiya, these are my parents."

She curtsied gracefully. "It's such an honor to meet you, Your Majesties."

"Oh, so sweet of you," Mae smiled. "I'm so happy to meet you. We haven't gotten to spend nearly enough time with the Selected."

"Oh, I imagine you're so busy though," Safiya noted. "Nolan mentioned that you planned this barbecue just today. Everything looks so lovely, Your Majesty."

Mae beamed. "So sweet of you to say so. Tell me, you're an actress, aren't you?"

With the two women engaged, Nolan turned towards his father, who was suddenly immensely interested in the beer in his hand. "How was your trip?" Nolan asked, trying to ease into the conversation.

"Oh, you know," shrugged Oliver.

Nolan bitterly thought, _No, I don't_ , but tried to keep his composure. "Anything productive happen?" he tried.

Oliver gave a weak shrug that didn't seem encouraging. "It's complicated," he finally mumbled. "But hey, we'll talk later, okay? I'm gonna grab some wings before your Uncle Tristan inhales them all."

Before Nolan could respond, Oliver had hurried away. It was infuriating, and he didn't feel like trying to play nice with his mom at the moment, considering she was complicit in keeping him in the dark, so he told Safiya he was going to get a drink.

He was unsurprised to find his cousin at the bar, and Nolan raised his eyebrows at Bayer as he settled into a seat next to him. "Rhiannon?" It seemed like an odd pick. He thought that his cousin would have leaned towards someone like the beautiful heiress, Izzy, or perhaps Safiya if Nolan hadn't invited her first.

Bayer smirked. "I like her," was all he replied before he took a sip of the strong drink he'd requested. "What do you think of the actress? I never thought celebrities would be your type. You're too shy for someone who's already famous."

Nolan rolled his eyes. "That's not true," he countered, "I think she's…"

"Intimidating?" Bayer guessed with a snort.

"A little," the prince confessed, "but we're working at it." He glanced over his shoulder to where she was speaking with his mother. "They seem to be getting along."

"Who?" Orlando asked as he and Freida joined their table. "Bayer and tequila?"

Bayer rolled his eyes. "Your wit is eternally sharp as a razor," he intoned. "And I'll have you know, this is whiskey."

While Bayer and Orlando bickered, Nolan smiled at Freida. "How have you been, Lady Freida?"

"Busy," she smiled, "I'm trying not to fall too behind in my classes and have had a few assignments due this week."

"Well, if you need any of the libraries, they're at your disposal," Nolan offered.

"Thank you," she smiled, "I've visited out a few. It is much easier to study in than my tiny room at home." They chatted about her classes for a little while longer before Nolan decided he should check on Safiya again.

But he discovered she'd moved from talking with his mother to talking with his Aunt Isolde and Aunt Kaitlyn quite seamlessly, so he decided to let her socialize for a while longer and glanced around instead.

He noticed Calli lingering on the fringe of the party near one of the dessert tables. It was unlike Calli, who never had trouble dealing with attention or being a social butterfly. Nolan made his way towards her. "What are you doing lurking over here?" he asked. "Isn't that usually my move?"

She rolled her eyes. "You don't lurk," she countered, "You're probably far too regal for lurking."

"True," he agreed. "But really, you okay?"

She shrugged her small shoulders. They curved in a little more than usual, instead of straightened with confidence. "Of course," she countered. "What about you? I'm guessing this was Mae's idea?"

"It's got her fingerprints all over it, doesn't it?" Nolan snorted as he examined the grounds. Mae was seated around the fire with Raina and Cheryl, a beer in hand and looking like she didn't have a care in the world. Clearly, she was in her glory.

Calli looked like she was about to agree before her body suddenly stiffened. "Oh, God," she groaned.

"What?" frowned Nolan. "Are you okay?"

"Pretend we're talking," she ordered frantically.

His brow furrowed in confusion. "We _are_ talking."

Realization dawned on him though when he heard someone clear their throat and saw that Ryder Illéa had joined them. Ryder's face was excited, but when he noticed the way that Calli seemed to be avoiding his gaze, the smile faltered for a moment.

Neither Calli nor Ryder seemed to know how to approach her new awkwardness, so Nolan tried his best to alleviate some of the tension. "Good to see you again, Ryder," he greeted the taller man, holding his hand out to shake Ryder's.

The soldier complied, but as he replied, "Uh, yeah, you too, Your Highness," he sounded distracted and his eyes flickered to Calli. His voice was tentative as he added, "How are you, Calli?"

Nolan had grown up with Calli, quite literally known her since he was born. Yet as well as he thought he knew her, he didn't have a clue what was going on in her head when she finally raised her gaze to focus on Ryder's face.

"I'm fine." Her response was terse, and she quickly looked away from Ryder, suddenly very interested in the cupcake tower beside her. It would've been less uncomfortable if she just excused herself, but Calli didn't seem capable of doing that either. It was like she knew she shouldn't be around Ryder but couldn't force herself to stay away either.

Nolan had never been the best mediator when it concerned personal matters, so he decided not to try. Instead, he perked up and asked, "Hey, how was your trip?"

"Trip?" Ryder parroted. His gaze still dejectedly lingered on Calli, who pretended not to feel the burn of his usually vibrant blue eyes.

Nolan tried not to be annoyed by his disinterest. "The German Federation?" he clarified.

This caught Ryder's attention, but he didn't immediately offer up information like Nolan had hoped he would. "It was…" He gave a weak shrug. "Oliver hasn't told you?"

"Of course he did," Nolan lied, unconvincingly. It had never been his strongest suit when put on the spot. "I was just wondering what you thought it was."

Calli set her glass down firmly on the table with the cupcake stand. "You know, I should leave you guys to your conversation," she decided. With her eyes rooted on the ground, she slunk away from them. Ryder looked like he was prepared to follow until he realized that Calli had retreated to the table where her father and Kingsley were both located.

"Is she okay?" the blonde man asked instead, his concerned gaze flickering to Nolan.

The prince was somewhat annoyed that Ryder had just ignored his inquisition about the peace treaty, but he had guess that Calli might have been simplifying things when she had explained her involvement with Ryder Illéa. Their uncomfortable interaction served as confirmation of this suspicion.

"I think she just has a lot going on right now," Nolan offered. He had to stop himself from cringing, but he figured it might be a reminder Ryder needed to hear, so he added, "She is a member of the Selection, after all."

Ryder flinched, like Nolan's words had physically impacted him. Nolan figured it could be seen as a threat, even though he hadn't meant it in such a manner. "I'm sorry," he offered, "but Calli's one of my best friends. And you're Raina's brother, and I know how much she loves you. I don't want either of you to do something that might…" He shrugged weakly, unsure of how else to articulate it.

Ryder finally managed to tear his eyes away from Calli's turned back, and though he didn't see it, Nolan noticed her glance over her shoulder in his direction. In a flash, Ryder's usual carefree, laidback expression returned. "Of course," he replied, "We've just been getting to know each other as friends, but I know this is probably a crazy process." He paused before continuing, "Super exciting though and everything," like he didn't want Nolan to be offended.

"Yeah," mumbled Nolan in agreement, "The Selection is definitely something." He heaved a deep sigh before he glanced around. He still hadn't spoken to Rhiannon, and he promised himself he'd divide his attention before he allowed himself to spend the rest of the evening in the comfort of Raina's company. "I should… you know, do rounds and stuff," he sighed to Ryder.

"Of course," the soldier offered, his smile still uncomfortable. "See you around, No—Your Highness."

He headed towards Rhiannon, who had been playing horseshoes with the son of Angeles's governor. She seemed to have been doing well, but upon noticing Nolan approaching, her throws got more delicate, and as a result, less accurate. "I'm hopeless at this," she giggled when Nolan was close enough to hear.

"You seemed adept a few minutes ago," he noted.

"Beginner's luck," she countered, dropping the rest of the horseshoes and brushing her hands off before she pulled a pair of little white gloves over them. "Do you want to take a walk?"

"Sure," he offered. "Have you seen the lake?" It was far enough to give them enough time alone together to satisfy her but close enough for Nolan to make a quick exit if necessary.

She shook her head and eagerly joined his side, taking his arm before he could offer it. He tensed at the contact for a moment before he forced himself to try to relax into it. Nonetheless, he couldn't help but glance around. He didn't like the Selected to see him touching another member of their ranks.

As they walked, he tried to think of something to say, but since he hadn't spoken with Rhiannon too much yet, he realized all he could come up with were various boring forms of small talk. Luckily, before the silence could get awkward, Rhiannon noted, "You have such beautiful gardens."

"Oh. Thank you," Nolan replied. "I don't know too much about them, but my mom loves flowers."

"So do I," Rhiannon smiled, "Orchids are my favorite." It was such a small statement, but it seemed like one of the most genuine things she had said to him yet, and it made his tense shoulders relax somewhat. Perhaps they were making progress.

"Will you tell me something else?" Nolan asked.

She blushed before she turned a beaming smile towards him. "Anything you'd like."

The sincerity seemed gone, but Nolan tried to hang on to it. "Something real," he continued, "I don't know, just something about you. Like… I don't know, what's your favorite color?"

There was no glimmer in her eye like there'd been when she talked about the flowers when she answered. "Pink," she said, almost mechanically.

"Of course," Nolan sighed. He glanced around and noticed his father was alone for the first time all afternoon. "Uh, would you excuse me?"

Rhiannon looked disappointed. "What about the lake?" she asked.

Nolan sighed, tired from the long and somewhat stressful day. "Look, Lady Rhiannon," he began, "I might not be outgoing or overly suave, but I'm not an idiot. I know that we've maybe had one exchange that's been genuine and therefore even somewhat meaningful, and until we can get past that, I really have more pressing matters to attend to." It was harsh, but it was to the point, and right now, it was what Nolan needed. Her mouth had fallen open, but he didn't try to soften the blow of his words. Instead, he turned and made a beeline for his father.

Rhiannon's cheeks burned as she watched Nolan's figure retreat. As always, her primary reaction was anger. Prince or not, how dare he? Who did he think he _was?_

The fact that he was completely right had little impact on Rhiannon's inner rage. It was ridiculous. He thought he wanted to see the real Rhiannon, but she knew better than that. As soon as people did, they realized they liked the delicate little flower that she portrayed far more, and they left. Nolan would be no different.

She paced as she tried to quell the outrage that surged through her veins, but this backfired when she stepped into a patch of soft ground, and one of her white, silk heels sank cleanly into it, causing her to stumble out of the shoe. "Are you _kidding?_ " she demanded with a dangerous glower at the shoe. She shoved her stockinged foot back into the pinching heel, but the shoe was far less inclined to leave the ground than it had been to enter. Her temper surged, and she kicked at the stupid heel. "Ugh!"

A teasing voice broke through her swirling thoughts. "Woah there, tiger."

She spun to see Bayer leaning against a tree, his arms crossed and a casual smirk turning up the corners of his mouth. "Excuse me?" she demanded, trying to keep her voice level. _Tiger?_ Ugh. She ground her teeth together before she bitterly added, "Your Highness."

"So, I take it you're angry because it's finally dawned on you just how unsuited you and Nolan are for each other?" he chortled.

Rhiannon's cheeks burned as the rage spread through her body. "You don't know anything," she declared, crossing her arms firmly.

Bayer rolled his eyes and lazily dragged a hand through his artfully tousled brown hair. It was a motion that Nolan did as well, usually when he seemed uncomfortable, but the French prince made it look laid-back, and his hair effortlessly settled back into place. "I knew from the minute I saw you," chuckled Bayer. His blue eyes betrayed just how much he enjoyed taunting her. "Granted, probably not the first moment. You were just another carbon copy, Stepford wife the first day." Her fiery anger flared once more. "I mean the first time I saw _you_ —in the gym."

Though she hated to let some pompous rich kid rattle her, insecurity lapped at her. Of everyone in the Selection, Bayer had probably come the closest to seeing the real her, the person she desperately tried to conceal. And, like she had suspected, that person wasn't good enough. Her glare intensified. "For probably the first time in your life, why don't you just mind your own business?" she snapped, her weak attempt at civility abandoned.

"Wouldn't you say Nolan's happiness is my business?" he winked at her. "He is family, after all."

"Don't see the resemblance at all," retorted Rhiannon. Despite her prior irritation with Nolan, she proclaimed, "He's polite and sweet, and you're a swine."

She didn't even have a second to regret the assertion, as Bayer shocked her and burst into laughter. "Calm down, would you?" he ordered. "Just because I don't think you're suited to be Illéa's Sweetheart doesn't mean it's a bad thing."

Her temper momentarily dipped, like it was unsure of how to respond. She racked her brain for something witty or that would put him in his place but came up blank. "You… don't?"

Bayer leaned away from the tree and started to close the distance between them, his eyes locked on Rhiannon's the entire time. "I think…" He paused less than an arm's length away from her. His large hands reached for one of her dainty, gloved ones. He paused, as though he was waiting for her to pull away or slap him, but when she didn't, he pulled the glove off, dropping it carelessly on the ground. A finger trailed down the calloused, marked skin of her palm. "…you're far more interesting than most of the other girls here," he concluded.

Her mouth was dry, and she hated the way his touch made her skin shudder. "You don't know me," she countered, closing her fist and pulling back.

"I'd like to," Bayer countered. "The real you, though. Not the front. To be royal is to be inherently surrounded by enough artificiality."

She didn't know what to say, so she quipped, "Wow, look at that. Your vocabulary actually extends to words longer than six letters."

A slight smile—a genuine one, not his usual smirk—ghosted over his face, but he otherwise ignored her taunt. "Think you can do that?" he continued. "Be the real you?"

It seemed such a simple request, but Rhiannon knew the execution would prove much harder. Essentially, it was the same thing that Nolan was asking of her, but there was something buried deep in Rhiannon that felt far more inclined to oblige Bayer's request. "Why?" she asked, unwilling to give in to that deep something so easily. "What do you get out of it?"

For the first time in both their short personal acquaintanceship and since her arrival at the castle, Bayer's face looked almost serious. There was no teasing lilt pulling up his mouth, the vibrant eyes didn't sparkle mysteriously, and a small frown drew his eyebrows down. "Because maybe I can be the real me with you too."

It was Rhiannon's turn to frown as she came to a startling realization. Bayer was a complete narcissist and drank too much and had little respect for other's feelings and didn't know when to be serious and had probably never once been responsible in his life—but, for the first time, she realized that perhaps there was something more to him too. Something that he buried down as deeply as she had her biting sarcasm and disdain for idiots and strong opinions.

There was something about them that was similar, if not the same, and she grasped that part of what irritated her so much about him was how familiar he felt.

It had been a long time since she had let herself indulge in familiarity.

She tried to swallow the feeling. "You know I'm still in this to win it, right?" she demanded, squaring her shoulders. It felt like a ridiculous motion in her silk shirt and fluffy skirt, but she guessed she already looked ridiculous given that one of her shoes was still entrenched in mud.

Bayer laughed. The brief seriousness evaporated into thin air. "I'd be shocked if this was all it took to make you concede defeat." He glanced down at her shoe, and for a second, Rhiannon thought he might pull it from the ground for her before he announced, "Might want to get that before you get your stockings dirty." And without another word, he turned and sauntered back down the hill, making no move to help her with her shoe at all.

"Bastard," she muttered under her breath before she bent to reclaim the now ruined heel.

* * *

From the bathroom, Mae's voice called, "I'm glad we did that."

Oliver already lounged on their bed in a pair of pajama bottoms and the reading glasses that he'd come to rely on far more now than he had as a twenty-something year old. "Me too," he admitted. He'd suggested the picnic because he wasn't ready to face how serious all their lives were about to become, but he truthfully was thankful they'd gone through with the idea. He was going to cling to any perfect moments he could from now on, no matter how brief.

He grabbed the remote and turned the television on, muting it when Mae spoke again. "You do know that you're going to have to tell him eventually though, right?" she frowned as she appeared in the doorway. Her face was clean of any makeup, and her dark hair was still damp and tangled from her shower. She almost looked exactly like the fiery, determined girl he'd fallen in love with all those years ago, save her new concerned, downcast expression.

"Do we have to talk about that tonight?" sighed Oliver. "Isn't there anything else? Like which girl you liked best today?"

But his wife wasn't so easily distracted. "You know the media is going to realize that not a single country signed a treaty soon," Mae reasoned. "It's a miracle they haven't already."

She was right. She was always right, frustrating as it could be for Oliver. "I'm worried," he confessed. He tried to focus on anything else other than the constant apprehension he'd felt saddled with for months and concentrated on her hands as she pulled a comb through her hair. It was an oddly comforting, repetitive, thoroughly normal motion.

Her frown turned pitying. As involved of a queen as Mae was, she knew that the full weight of ruling didn't fall on her in the same way that it did her husband. "I know," she empathized. "How can I help?"

One of the worries that he'd yet to voice to her choked him, and he had to take a deep, bolstering breath before he declared, "Someday… you're going to have to help him, Mae."

She paused and set the comb down on their dresser before she approached the bed. She gathered her legs beneath her and put a hand on each of his arms. He might've been distracted by the way her silk bathrobe bunched up on her thighs if not for the overwhelming sense of dread that he couldn't seem to shake. "You know I would if it was necessary," she reminded him, "but we don't even have to talk about this, because you'll be here for Nolan."

"But if I'm not," he began.

"Stop it," she ordered. Her voice was strong, but there was the slightest quiver of desperation in it, like she couldn't bear to consider the hypothetical situation he had proposed.

"Neutrality can only last for so long," Oliver pointed out, "I'd be an idiot if I couldn't see that."

"It's still possible that Russia could be defeated before we're ever dragged in," Mae attempted to argue.

Oliver shook his head. "Based on the intel I've gotten from Annalise and the German Chancellor, Russia's ready for the long haul," he countered, "and with Central Africa's resources… God, I know Nikolai. He'll bleed Africa and West New Asia dry to sustain his own war machine, and with Marid's help, he'll do it so sneakily that the other countries won't even know what's happening. His allies don't matter to him, so long as he comes out on top."

Mae put a hand on her husband's chest. The warmth of her skin on his was almost calming. "We'll figure something out," she tried. "It won't be easy, but…" She trailed off, and he could tell that she knew she was grasping at straws too.

"There won't be time," he countered, cupping her cheek with one of his hands. "I don't know when it'll happen, but it's almost inevitable at this point. The best thing that I can do for Illéa right now is to try to prepare—and that includes you and Nolan."

She sighed and curled into his chest, and Oliver wrapped his arms around her in response. He dropped a kiss on the top of her head before his eyes flitted to the neglected television screen across the room.

The news anchors were speaking with solemn faces, but Oliver couldn't hear them due to the muted volume, and he was too paralyzed to move to rectify it. Besides, he'd seen the only thing that mattered.

At the bottom of the screen, in bold, capitalized letters ran the headline: SAHARA JOINS UNITED ALLIANCE, DECLARES WAR ON IMPERIAL TRIUMVIRATE.

One of their closest allies and the last few holdouts in the growing World War had fallen—which meant that Italy and Illéa were the only neutral countries left.


	16. 94 Days Before

**Author's Note:** I know my updates have been very erratic. But if you guys are still into reading it, I'm still into writing it. Enjoy this chapter!

* * *

Chapter 15: 94 Days Before

The change in the castle's atmosphere was palpable. The morning after Sahara joined the war, everyone knew, and whether they acknowledged it or not, everyone could feel that something had shifted.

Illéa didn't feel untouchable anymore. It almost felt as though it had become when they would enter, not if.

Nolan knew that there were many people that he could talk to about how the sudden shift in world politics had left him feeling. But his own anxieties felt like an afterthought, surely something that he couldn't bother his parents with at the moment. Their positions as leaders were becoming increasingly stressful and tenuous by the day. Besides, getting them alone was sure to be impossible. He had tried first thing that morning, but by seven o'clock, General Gauge, Jonathan, and the rest of Oliver's closest advisors had all arrived at the palace to figure out what this development meant for Illéa.

He supposed that he could have talked to any one of the Selected, and part of him even felt guilty for choosing not to. But it was difficult to build a relationship under these circumstances. There were some that he even wanted to confide in, but he was unsure how he felt about discussing something so monumental. Besides, for all the reassurances they would likely try to offer him, it was impossible for them to truly understand.

However, that was the benefit of having a twin, a person as closely situated to Nolan's position as one could be. Even if Lea wasn't the heir, she was still the princess. Together, she and Nolan were the embodiment of Illéa. They were the country's future.

And if war came to Illéa, they would be targets together. Not just for the country's enemies, but for the public to turn on when the suffering began to affect them.

But even though he was counting on the deep understanding of each other that he and Lea usually shared, he was surprised to find her in the chapel. The palace didn't have a large church, since the royal family went to St. Sebastian's for most important events, but the small chapel was available for daily use when traveling was inconvenient.

He wasn't surprised by Alex's presence there, given his friend's deep investment in his faith, but it was far less likely to find Lea in such a room. She attended St. Sebastian's loosely with Alex, calling herself more spiritual than religious.

When she noticed her brother in the doorway during what looked like a bored scan around the chapel, she slipped away from Alex's side and joined Nolan in the hallway. "What's up?" she asked.

But he was momentarily distracted. "Were you praying?" he asked.

Lea looked a little bashful. "A little?" she admitted. "I don't know. I was mostly just here with Alex."

"Are you going to pretend to pray through your Catholic wedding ceremony?" Nolan asked with a chuckle.

Lea crossed her arms and glared at him. "Can I help you with something, or were you just here to get on my nerves?"

"Sorry," he mumbled. "I was just wondering if you'd seen the news."

Lea stiffened, her posture becoming more worried than annoyed. "Of course," she replied. "That's what prompted all of this in the first place." She nodded at Alex, who was still focused despite her absence. "He thinks it's inevitable."

"Illéa?" Nolan asked, his mouth feeling dry.

She nodded. "What do you think?" she asked, meeting her brother's gaze. One of the things Nolan had always liked about having a twin was that they shared the exact same eye color. There was something about looking into Lea's eyes that almost felt like seeing his own and felt oddly comforting.

As he considered her question, he realized his first thought was that he was scared. Their lives would be inevitably changed by a war. People they loved would be sent to foreign lands to meet the enemy. Places in the country they loved could be destroyed if the fighting came to Illéa's shores.

"I think we'll be okay," he lied. "If we enter on our own terms, I think it'll be good."

She nodded, as though it made sense to her. "I was just beginning to think we'd never have to," she admitted. "Between the Selection and our birthday and being engaged… everything felt so normal."

"Maybe that's just what we should focus on," Nolan mused. "Keeping things normal until…"

"Until we can't," Lea concluded.

He clenched his jaw, hoping that time didn't come sooner rather than later. "Have you seen Imani?" he asked.

Lea shook her head, her eyes sad. "I tried to go see her this morning," she explained, "but she's been in meetings all day."

He nodded. "I'll try later and let you know how she is."

"What are you going to do in the mean time?" Lea asked.

Nolan shrugged. "Try to be normal, I guess."

Given that his new normal included the Selection, Nolan decided to try to take his mind off of things by visiting one of the girls. Deciding on who was always the hard part—he hated to hurt anyone's feelings but simultaneously didn't want to force any interactions—but today, the perfect person instantly popped into his mind.

When he arrived at the Women's Room, he decided not to request permission to enter, and instead, sent his request with one of the guards. Isadora stepped outside alone, to Nolan's relief. He instantly felt comforted by his choice in companion for the day when he noticed that her face was drawn in concern or worry like everyone else that he had encountered that morning. Instead, she wore a shy smile, and she was a vision in her pink lace dress, her golden curls bouncing, and a sweet rose scent floating off her person.

"Hello," he smiled, already feeling slightly less tense.

She smiled up at him in greeting. "Uh… do you like board games?" he asked, a little nervous.

Although her eyebrows furrowed in amusement at the suggestion initially, she nodded in agreement. Together, the pair made their way to the library that Nolan had scouted for the afternoon. It was close enough to the Royal Family's wing that he would be able to see if Imani walked by but also tucked away enough that they could avoid anyone stumbling in on them.

Nolan had requested a charcuterie and cheese board for snacks, as well as a bottle of Lea's favorite rosé. He thought the items might appeal to Izzy, as she seemed to be similar to his sister in tastes. Her eyes lit up when she read the label, and Nolan gave himself a mental pat on the back. He handed her a glass, and they both settled in at the table.

"Oh, I almost forgot." Nolan reached into his back pocket and pulled out a stack of stationary and a pen. He pushed them across the table towards Izzy.

For a moment, he thought he'd offended her, because she stared at the papers for a second longer than seemed normal. But then she looked up at him, her smile just a little more serious than he'd seen yet, and gave a small nod that seemed to say _thank you._

Nolan cleared his throat, a little embarrassed. "I have brought some quality games," he announced. "Scrabble?" Izzy scrunched her nose and shook her head. "No problem," Nolan shrugged, going to the next game. He hesitated as he examined Monopoly. Somehow, a game about trying to conquer most of the board didn't feel quite right at that moment. He pushed it aside as well, and Izzy pretended not to notice. "Oh, what about Life?" he suggested.

Izzy shrugged and jotted a note on the paper: _Never played_. "I'll help you," Nolan assured her.

Once he'd set up the game and they'd picked their tokens, they placed them at the beginning. Nolan was the blue car, and Izzy was red, but only, as she noted, because they didn't have a pink car. "So now you have to decide whether to go to college or just pick a job," he explained. "You get a better job if you go to college, but to go to college, you have to take out loans."

Izzy scrunched her nose in distaste. _Can't I just pay for college?_ she penned. Nolan laughed. "No, because we don't have any money yet," he reminded her. "You're not heir to an oil fortune in this game, and I'm not a prince."

She gave a shrug of her small shoulders and gestured to him to give her the loan. They progressed through a few rounds in relative silence, aside from Nolan reading the different cards that they drew or spaces they landed on. Shortly after they were instructed to get married, Izzy nudged the paper towards him. _Is everything okay?_

"Yeah," he assured her. "Just a little… distracted."

 _Do you want to talk about it?_

He chewed his lower lip. "Honestly? Not really," he admitted, "And I really don't mean to offend you by that or anything, it's just…"

 _No one really gets it?_

"Yeah," he exhaled, relieved that she at least understood that. "And it's not like I expect people to. No one else here has grown up heir to a country, you know?"

 _I feel that way with some of the other girls sometimes._

"Really?" he asked, surprised. He hadn't really talked to the girls about their interactions with each other yet.

 _My world is a lot different than some of the other girls'._

He understood. "So is mine," he admitted with a small smile. He paused, and before he could change his mind, he added in a rush, "Sometimes I've felt like no one's ever really been able to understand what this life is like aside from Lea."

Izzy gave a sympathetic smile before she picked up her pen to respond. _I know what that's like. My brother and sister were the only ones I could ever really talk to._

Nolan wracked his mind. "I've met your brother," he realized.

Izzy's expression turned rueful. _He's rather good friends with Bayer. Birds of a feather._

Nolan laughed, remembering the reason he knew of Frederick Alistair was precisely because of his escapades with Bayer and other troublemakers. He'd heard a few years ago that Frederik had refused to take over his father's company, so it made sense that he and Bayer could find common ground. They both had all the wealth and privilege in the world but no duties or responsibility. Bayer was eighth in line to the French throne and failed to rank in the top ten in Illeá. Given the odds of him ever being called on to rule, there were few things in life that he took seriously.

"You're still close with Frederick?" he asked.

 _Yes_ , she wrote. _I don't care whether he wants the company._

"I take it your parents disagree?" Nolan asked. "That seems to be a trend when you're one of the most successful businesses in the county."

Izzy hesitated, twirling the pen between her fingers for a few moments like she was considering her words carefully. _My parents care a lot about appearances._

Nolan read her words twice. "I suppose having their daughter become queen would the ultimate image boost," he remarked.

 _I suppose that's why they let me enter_ , she confirmed.

"Is that why you wanted to enter?" he responded.

Izzy stared at him for a moment before she smiled softly. The only thing she wrote in response was _no_.

It was good enough for Nolan, and he smiled before he took his next turn in the game.

After they finished the game—Isadora won, gathering a solid extra five hundred thousand dollars than Nolan to her delight—he walked her back to the Women's Room. _Would you want to come in?_ Izzy offered before he could leave.

"Some other time," Nolan assured her. "Right now, I have to go be a prince. But thanks for spending time with me today. It really took my mind off things." She smiled in return and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. Nolan blushed and gave an awkward wave before she disappeared into the room.

Although he figured he'd see them at dinner, Nolan decided to check if his parents were free. Before he even reached their room though, he ran into Kaitlyn. "Nolan," she smiled.

"Hey, Aunt Kaitlyn," he greeted her. "Uh, are my parents…?"

She gave a shake of her head. "Afraid not," she admitted. "They've been meeting with generals and council members all day."

"I guess there's a lot to talk about when one of your allies enters a war," Nolan noted.

Kaitlyn gave a sympathetic nod. "Are you okay though?" she asked.

"Yeah," he shrugged, "Just…"

Kaitlyn nodded again. "Do you want to go for a walk? Get some air," she suggested. "We could take Pip."

After a moment of consideration, Nolan nodded. "That'd be nice." They collected the old dog and stepped out into the brisk fall afternoon.

"Can I ask you something?" Nolan asked, unable to stop himself.

"Of course," Kaitlyn smiled.

"It's about you and… Alaric Illéa," he admitted.

Kaitlyn gave a slow nod. "Go on."

"Just… what happened?" Nolan asked. "I never talked to my parents about it because it never really seemed relevant, but with Raina and Ryder being in Angeles… I don't know, it kind of seems like the time to know."

There was silence as Kaitlyn mulled over the question. "Everyone knows the rules of the Selection," she began. "It's treason to entertain anyone other than the prince. It's treason with a corresponding punishment."

"My dad never would've—"

"I know," Kaitlyn assured him with a smile. "But it still held the same kind of taboo, and it still resulted in a lot of hurt and confusion."

"So you loved Alaric?" Nolan asked, stealing a glance at her.

Even if she would have said no, he would have been able to tell from the expression on her face. "Yes."

"Why didn't you just leave?" he asked. "If any of the Selected asked me if they could leave, I'd let them."

"Your father would have too," Kaitlyn agreed, "but we just got wrapped up in it. Alaric was here at Oliver's invitation, and I got so used to seeing him around, and by the time that we realized we needed to talk to Oliver…"

She looked lost in the past now, a painful past. "Marid Illéa did… something terrible," she explained. "Or—I don't know. Sometimes I think it was just a convenient accident for him to claim. But it nearly killed Tristan and Isolde. When your father found out, he was furious."

Nolan's stomach churned uncomfortably, sensing where the story was going.

"I don't blame Oliver for the way he reacted anymore," Kaitlyn declared. "And after that, there was a lot of hurt and miscommunication. Alaric and I lived our own lives."

"But you're both back now," Nolan noted.

Kaitlyn smiled. "Yeah."

"Does it feel the same?" Nolan wondered. "Twenty-three years is… a while."

"Feels better," Kaitlyn admitted, her voice breaking with emotion. "I feel like I'm home for the first time in twenty-three years."

He breathed out a deep sigh. "I hope I can find something like that through this thing."

Kaitlyn stopped walking and gave his hand a squeeze. "I think you can, Nol," she insisted. "You just can't be afraid to open up, and tell people how you feel when you're feeling it." He nodded. It was a tall order, but if it saved him twenty-three years of regret, he'd try.

When they returned to the palace, a butler greeted them. "Your Royal Highness, the King wanted me to inform you that dinner will be served in quarters tonight."

Nolan and Kaitlyn exchanged a look. "I'm going to go see if I can talk to Mae," Kaitlyn decided. "Hang in there, Nol."

Bolstered by his conversation with Kaitlyn, Nolan returned to his room to change. He was surprised when he found his friends all waiting for him in his room. "You know when they say 'quarters', they generally mean your own, right?" Nolan laughed.

"Yours are bigger," Bayer shrugged.

"Well, enjoy them," Nolan offered as he kicked off his shoes. "Hey, Kings, can I talk to you?"

"Uh… in your closet?" Kingsley asked, looking confused.

"Yeah," Nolan nodded.

His cousin followed him, his confusion growing when Nolan pulled the closet door shut behind them. "What—"

"Have you talked to Imani?" Nolan asked bluntly.

"No," Kingsley replied. "Have you?"

"No, and I'm trying to, but you need to," Nolan declared. "As soon as possible."

"I don't know that I'm really the person she'll want to see right now, Nol," Kingsley countered. "I'm sure Uncle Oliver is giving her all the ally assurances she needs."

"She doesn't need Illéa's support right now," countered Nolan. "I mean, her country does, but Imani the person needs _you._ "

Kingsley tried to shrug him off, but Nolan declared, "Look, I heard you guys talking the other day. Uh, about you guys as a couple. And I get where you're coming from, but I also get where she's coming from, and I also think that people need to remember that under the prince or princess is a person."

"This is scary, Kings," Nolan explained. "If I were in Imani's place and stuck somewhere else while the country that I'm supposed to rule one day goes off to battle… I'd need someone. And she needs you, no matter your differing thoughts on your future together."

Kingsley's brow was furrowed, and Nolan almost thought he was about to be told off for eavesdropping before Kingsley reluctantly nodded. "You're right."

Despite his surprise, Nolan gave a nod. "Cool. That was actually way easier than I thought it would be. Now let's hope my next endeavor goes smoothly too." He pulled on a dinner jacket and clapped Kingsley on the shoulder before he made his way out of his room, ignoring the questions his sister called after him.

When he reached the Women's Room, he waited until he was granted entrance. Despite his short notice, nearly all of the Selected were present, as he'd requested. Trays of food were spread about, and he sat down at the empty spot they'd left for him.

"Thanks for meeting me," he greeted them all. "Even though my parents couldn't make it tonight, I thought it would still be nice for me to have dinner with all of you," he explained. A few girls smiled. He started to turn towards his food but paused. "Just so all of you know," he began again, "I can be kind of… shy and set in my ways, I guess. Something new like this isn't the easiest thing for me. But I'm trying, and I'm really looking forward to opening up, if you all are too."

This got many more smiles, and Nolan felt more relaxed as he turned to the girl next to him, Gwen, and asked her about a bracelet she was wearing.

* * *

Calli wasn't sure what she was doing.

She knew that practically everyone had warned her. And she wasn't stupid, she knew that herself that it was best that she stay away from Ryder Illéa. She knew it was best for _both_ of them.

But she couldn't. After pacing back and forth in front of their barracks for a solid five minutes, she walked up to the door and knocked.

To her immediate relief, Finn answered the door. He looked surprised to see her, and Calli guiltily wondered if Ryder had told him how dismissive they'd been the last time they'd talked and how many text messages she had ignored sine. She tried not to look embarrassed as she greeted him. "Hi, Finn. Nice to see you. Is, uh, is Ryder around?"

"Uh…" Finn bit his lower lip. "He's actually not."

"Oh." Disappointment flooded through her. "Well, I guess I'll just be…" She gestured vaguely in the direction of the ferry, feeling distracted and trying to determine why her eyes were so watery.

"Wait." Finn stepped out the door after her. "Uh, did you just come from work? We could grab a bite to eat, I know the ferry doesn't come for another forty-five minutes." He paused before he added, "You seem like you kinda need to talk."

"I'm fine," Calli immediately replied.

"I'm not saying you aren't," Finn assured her with a smile, "Just offering to listen, if you need someone to."

His response made her pause, then realize how lucky Raina was to have such a person be so in love with her. "That would be really nice," she admitted.

"It's settled then." Finn grabbed a jacket and then stepped out into the night with her.

They decided on the Italian place on base, because Finn determined that she needed comfort food. Calli didn't argue, and after a glass of wine and a breadstick, she felt ready to talk. "I feel like I'm making a mess of everything," she confessed. "With my dad, Ryder, Nolan, Kingsley…"

"You're giving yourself way too much credit," Finn countered. "All of those people have a hand in the pot too. And so much of this has just been weird luck. You couldn't have known you'd get Selected or that you'd meet Ryder like a week later."

Calli smiled ruefully. "I did actually know I'd get Selected," she confessed in a low voice.

Finn's eyebrows jumped up. "You fixed it?"

"We did as a group," she explained. "We had to. Nolan wasn't ready to do this, but he felt like he had to because of everything else that's going on. I think any of us would've done it to protect him and help him however we can. I just happened to be the only one eligible."

"Wow." A smile slowly worked its way onto Finn's face. "It sounds like you guys are a pretty close group of friends."

"We are," Calli agreed.

"So why don't you just tell him?" Finn asked. "Nolan, I mean. Is he still afraid no one's right for him?"

"No," countered Calli, "It's just hard for him to completely let people in. And… I tried, but he has a lot going on." She paused before she added, "He's not as confident as he seems. And the world is kind of on fire right now, which doesn't make any of the Royal Family's jobs easier."

She stabbed moodily at her spaghetti before she added, "Besides, I don't even know if Ryder likes me, or if it's just the unavailability thing, you know? He's not the first soldier to shoot for the General's daughter."

"Do you like him?" Finn asked.

Calli rolled her eyes. "Do I have to say it?"

Finn nodded. "I mean, if you can't even say it, is it worth it?"

She supposed he had a point. "Yeah," she admitted, staring into her food. "He makes me laugh, and I smile whenever I think about him, and I get these ridiculous butterflies when I see him." _And I just want to be with him all the time._ But she kept that piece inside. She met Finn's eyes again. "But like I said, I don't know if he even likes me, or if there's an angle."

"That's not Ryder," Finn protested. "Look, I don't know exactly what he's thinking, or how he's feeling, but—"

"Finn!"

Calli and Finn both turned towards the voice that had called his name. A blonde woman made her way towards them, but it was the person that she was pulling with her that made Calli's breath catch in her throat.

"Ryder."

The woman paused and turned her attention from Finn to Calli. "Oh my god, you're Calliope Gauge, aren't you?" she realized.

"Uh, yes," Calli admitted. "You are?"

"Carina Martin," she smiled, holding a hand out to Calli, who reluctantly accepted. Carina Martin was blonde, a tiny little thing, and she had a literal Southern Belle accent that made Calli want to roll her eyes.

Ryder cleared his throat, looking desperate to interject. "Carina is an old fr—"

"We dated for a few years," Carina explained.

The watery feeling returned to Calli's eyes, and she forced a smile. "It's very nice to have met you," she explained as she desperately dug through her wallet. "Finn, thanks for everything." Without another word, or a glance at Ryder, she darted towards the exit, not even stopping to put her coat on.

How stupid. Here she was, ready to risk everything, and Ryder was running around on a date with an old girlfriend he'd been with for _years_. The realization that everyone had been right to warn her to stay away—even if their reasoning was wrong—forced a few tears from her eyes and Calli hastily pushed them away.

"Calli!"

She didn't turn around. "Better get back to your date."

Ryder was breathless as he caught up to her. "Would you slow down," he panted. He reached for her arm, but she wrenched it away. "Calli, it's not a date, I swear."

"Oh, no? Then please, tell me what taking a girl to one of the nicer restaurants on base—"

"You were literally there with Finn!" Ryder laughed.

"But I've never dated Finn!" Calli shot back.

He took both her arms this time. "Calli, I am not getting back together with Carina," he insisted. "She was in Angeles for the day and asked if we could get dinner. That's all."

She was so close to him that if she just leaned forward… But instead, Calli tore her gaze away from his beautiful blue eyes. "It doesn't matter," she sighed, "This was a mistake."

"Don't," Ryder whispered.

She forced herself to look at him, taking a step back so they weren't quite as close. "I can't leave the Selection."

"I'll wait," Ryder offered instantly. "Calli, you're the most incredible person I've ever met."

She closed her eyes. If ever she was going to leap, now was the moment. She could tell him exactly how she felt, articulate the words that it felt like she was dying to say every time she was with him.

But there were too many unknowns. So instead, she said, "I think we both know the Selection isn't the only reason this isn't a good idea."

"Please don't," Ryder repeated. She hated knowing that she was hurting him, and the emotion was written all over his face.

"I'm sorry." Unable to face him any longer, she turned and continued walking towards the ferry.

She was relieved when he didn't follow her, because she couldn't stand hurting him for another moment.

But she also collapsed into tears as soon as she sat down, because he didn't follow her.


	17. 91 Days Before

**Author's Note:** Back again! I know that I've been inconsistent, but I'm really trying to update more regularly. With that being said: if you still have a girl in the story, please let me know if you're still here. Writing a SYOC isn't as fun without interaction, so for that reason, I've been considering reopening the SYOC. There is an event in the story that would let me do so, but of course, it would mean eliminating people. SO. Let me know if you're still into this.

* * *

Chapter 16: 91 Days Before

The headlines and news had begun to consume Nolan's life.

They were impossible to avoid, no matter how hard the Royal Family tried. Lea and Alex had given an interview about their wedding plans, but it was still overshadowed by the fact that a French ship had been struck by a Russian torpedo, resulting in no survivors. He'd taken Kylee to a benefit for the Maxon Memorial Hospital, but they were only the talk of news programs until Marid gave a speech in Russia promising to bring the country more territory and wealth than ever before.

Worse than seeing everything else going on in the world was seeing how the public was responding to it. No matter what steps Oliver took, it seemed like he couldn't win. People were divided. Some thought it was Illéa's duty to join their allies and defend against the threat of Russia. Others wanted no part, not willing to sacrifice Illéan lives for a war that didn't concern them.

Nolan had tried to examine his own feelings about it. He'd talked to Presley during one of their sessions and realized that he wasn't quite sure what he thought. He hated the idea of going to war. He knew the cost it would have on their country – lives, resources, and potential long term consequences if they were on the losing side. He knew that if they joined and lost, he and his family would likely pay with their lives.

But the more he tried to understand the Russians, the more it felt unavoidable. Russia didn't just want to govern the rest of the world. They wanted to _dominate_ it. Marid was running on a platform of superiority, especially where different ethnicities were concerned. He riled the Russian people up by talking about things that had been taken from them, not just in recent years but in their entire history. He told them of the lands that belonged to them. He told them of the riches that should have been theirs. He painted a picture of dethroning those who he claimed ruled the world currently and subjugating them.

Nolan knew that Russia had struggled in recent years. While Marid claimed they had lost valuable territory, one of the issues was the country was too large to support itself. It didn't have enough fertile land. Nikolai hadn't made valuable trade agreements since he'd become tsar because of his own pride and disdain for other countries. The war was draining them of money, and the large low income majority of the country was feeling it.

But for some crazy reason, they kept supporting Nikolai and Marid. It made no sense to Nolan.

"There you are."

Nolan jumped at Alex's voice. "Oh, god," he sighed, "Lea's fitting. I totally forgot." When Lea said that she wanted them to come to her first wedding dress fitting, Nolan was momentarily shocked. In the craziness of the last week, he'd almost forgotten that something as normal as Lea's wedding was still going on.

"No problem," Alex shrugged with an easy smile, "I was sent to collect you." He paused, glancing down at Nolan's desk. "Look, man, I don't want to be pushy, but I think you're obsessing a little."

"I know." Nolan pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. "It's just hard not to, you know?"

Alex nodded, but countered, "You should try to focus on the good things while we can though."

 _While we can._ Even Alex felt it was inevitable. Nolan tugged at the collar of his shirt, feeling hot and uncomfortable. "Well, let's go before Lea sends the big guns after me."

When he walked into Lea's room, he discovered that he wasn't the only one who had been roped into attendance. His parents were there with smiles fixed on their faces. Mae did look genuinely happy, but Nolan noticed she was wearing more makeup than usual, likely to hide the tired bags under her eyes. Oliver, on the other hand, wore his exhaustion evidently, looking much older than usual. His hand held a glass of scotch so tightly that his knuckles showed the strain, pale from the voracity of his grip.

His aunt and uncle were there, along with Kingsley. They sat close to Oliver and Mae, engrossed in a low conversation. Calli, who had recently been asked to be maid of honor, sat next to Kingsley, her expression tense. Alex's parents had been invited as well. Though it wasn't their first time at the palace by any means, they always seemed a bit surprised by the fact that their son was dating a princess and that they were in an actual palace every time they visited. The only party that Nolan was truly surprised by was Margo.

"Lady Margo," he greeted her.

She curtsied. Her smile was enormous, like she couldn't believe her good luck either. "Princess Lea invited me," she explained, "She said she appreciates my fashion input." Nolan could see why. Margo was always effortlessly stylish. Today, she wore a floral printed blue dress that would've looked like an old couch on anyone else.

"That sounds like my sister," chuckled Nolan. "Don't let her work you too hard."

Margo gave a sheepish smile. "I'll try."

He took a seat next to his parents. "How is everyone?" he asked.

"Good, darling," Mae smiled. Oliver nodded weakly in agreement but was spared responding by Lea's arrival.

"Okay!" her excited voice came from her closet. "Is everyone ready?" A chorus of 'yes' greeted her.

She stepped out of the closet clad in an ivory gown that even Nolan, with his limited understanding of women's fashion, knew was beautiful. It had a high neck, three-quarter length sleeves, and delicate lace details. A beaded belt cinched in her tiny waist, and an overlay of silk-tulle fell over the beaded skirt, giving her an ethereal appearance. The back contained a large keyhole cutout, and Savannah, the palace designer, carried a sizeable train for Lea as the princess made her way to the pedestal that had been set up before a three-way mirror in her bedroom.

"Well?" beamed Lea. "What do you think? We wanted to go for a traditional look for my ceremony dress, but between the belt and the overlay and the back, it's still very me."

There was a variety of reactions. Mae was unabashedly crying and jumped to her feet to hug Lea while declaring that she would be the most beautiful bride in the world. Oliver's eyes were misty as well, though he looked concerned, like he hoped his daughter would get the magical wedding day she deserved.

Nolan, for his part, was speechless. Lea looked beautiful, of course, but he had lived with his sister for twenty-one years and could count on two hands how many times he'd seen her look _this_ happy. It was like her smile had a new radiance, a radiance that Nolan felt could only come from finding one's soulmate.

Savannah produced a cathedral length veil, made of the same silk-tulle of the overlay, and pinned it into Lea's hair. When the veil was laid out completely, Nolan was almost surprised by the length. "It's eight feet," Lea explained. Her smile grew even brighter, somehow. "One for each of the years Alex and I have been together."

Lea paused and looked at Oliver. "We also decided we don't want to televise the ceremony," she said, almost looking apologetic. "We could do a brief interview afterwards, and I know there will be photographers on our way to the reception, but we just wanted something to keep to ourselves. We don't have any problem releasing some wedding photos either."

"It's not a problem at all, sweetheart," Oliver assured her. "We'll figure something out once it gets closer." Nolan had a feeling his father was disappointed though. If there was anything that would take attention off world politics, it would be a wedding special.

Lea patted Margo's arm. "I've already decided I'll give an exclusive to Margo's magazine as well." Nolan raised his eyebrows. He had clearly underestimated Lea's friendship with the fashion editor.

"We want to do May," Lea beamed. "A ceremony at St. Sebastian's, and then we're fine with having the reception at the palace."

"It's your special day," countered Mae, "We could rent the National Museum or host it at the Royal Theater."

Oliver chuckled. "Between the two of you, how much is this day gonna cost me?"

Lea winked. "Luckily you only have one daughter, Daddy."

When they had exhausted all wedding talk for the moment, Nolan turned to his cousin to ask how his talk with Imani had gone. But Kingsley was already gone, standing at his mother's side as Isolde talked to Oliver in a corner of the room. Nolan approached them and caught his father instruct, "Don't forget to call when you land."

"Going on a trip?" Nolan asked.

Isolde nodded. "Just a little morale boosting trip with Kingsley and General Gauge," she explained, "We'll be in Dominica for the next few days touring the base."

"And secretly making sure everything is up to standards?" Nolan assumed. Kingsley quickly looked away when Nolan tried to meet his gaze, leading the prince to figure his guess was correct.

"Better safe than sorry," Isolde smiled. "Keep your father in check while we're gone."

"Always do," Nolan promised.

After Isolde and Kingsley left to say goodbye to Tristan before their car arrived, Nolan turned to his father. "Do you have any time to talk today?"

At least Oliver looked apologetic. "I know I've been keeping you out of the loop."

"Understatement of the year, maybe, Dad," Nolan noted.

His father grimaced. "I just hate to burden you with this stuff."

"It's kind of my burden too though," he pointed out. "And besides, you know me. If you don't tell me what's going on, I'm just going to come to the worst conclusions on my own and worry about it anyway."

Oliver sighed, and he suddenly looked much older than his forty-four years. "I heard you have a date with Raina Illéa tonight," he noted.

Nolan nodded shortly, annoyed that his father was changing the subject again.

"We'll talk tomorrow," Oliver offered, "I promise. I don't want to make you late, and there's a lot to discuss."

Nolan relaxed, his face easing into a smile. "Okay," he agreed. "I'm holding you to this."

"I know," Oliver assured him with a week chuckle, "Tomorrow, I promise."

After he assured Lea that she looked breathtaking—which was, apparently, her goal—Nolan headed back to his room to get ready. He did, indeed, have a date with Raina Illéa that night, and was glad to find that he was feeling pretty excited about it. For the slightest moment, his mind nagged at him to return to the newspapers he had left on his desk. But the prospect of spending time with Raina, who somehow managed to make him feel at ease, was enough to make him bypass them for now.

* * *

For what seemed like the millionth time since she had received it, Raina pulled the letter from the pocket of her dress. She gently unfolded it, as the creases were already becoming slightly worn. The ivory paper was thick, weighty, and had a luxurious feel. The inky letters on the page were careful and elegant, written by someone who clearly placed a great importance on his penmanship. There was a small crown at the top of the page, and somewhat amusingly, Nolan's name was stamped, not signed, at the bottom.

He'd invited her to the Royal Ballet, and Raina's heart was practically exploding with excitement. It also made her feel somewhat guilty, though. She realized, compared to some of the other girls, she'd seen Nolan a fair amount. She liked the mornings they spent together. First, she liked helping him. Every time she saw him relax a little or even, on occasion, utilize some of the calming exercises they worked on together while he was in public, she was proud of him. But second, she liked getting to know him as just Nolan.

Truthfully, Raina hadn't been sure what she was expecting when she entered the Selection. But she did know that she had some particular fears. While the biggest was that she wouldn't care for Nolan, the second most prominent was that they wouldn't be able to get past the fact that he was a Schreave and she was an Illéa. She was no stranger to the plague that her last name could be.

But it had never felt like that. Even after their somewhat disastrous initial meeting, she never thought that he treated her differently because of who her family was. And she realized that she didn't treat him differently either. To her, he was just Nolan, so much so that she occasionally almost misaddressed him on _The Report._

She was excited to leave the palace with him. She was sure that it would be different from the mornings they spent tucked away in an empty room of the palace. There would be other people around that did not forget that he was the heir to the throne and future king.

But for one, it was ballet. She'd get to share one of her favorite things with him. And she'd also get to see him in action, in the role he was born to play. It almost felt like the night would help her to understand another layer of Nolan.

She folded the letter and tucked it back into her pocket as the guards opened the door for the Women's Room for her. "Thank you," she smiled at them appreciatively. She had a few hours before she needed to be ready for the evening, and there were a few people she was hoping to find in the Women's Room.

She was relieved to see that Lea was sitting on a couch, a stack of letters surrounding her. No one was with her at the moment, so Raina tentatively approached her.

Lea looked up and smiled. "Lady Raina."

"I hope I'm not bothering you," Raina offered, glancing at all of the papers surrounding Lea.

"Oh, no, saving me, actually," Lea countered. "My mom thought I should try to respond to some of the well-wishers that have sent engagement presents. It's a little strange though, considering I don't actually know any of these people." She moved a stack of papers off the seat beside her and gestured to Raina to sit.

"I just wanted to thank you," Raina explained, her voice quiet so the other girls wouldn't hear. "I'm going to the Royal Ballet tonight, and I know that the ballet is one of your patronages, so it's really nice of you to let us go."

"Of course," beamed Lea. "Besides, I've dragged Alex to so many ballets, this is really like a gift to him, so I should be thanking you guys." She paused before she added, "And, truthfully, _Giselle_ bums me out. I think the company is trying not to do Russians ballets this season, uh, all things considered."

"Oh, I love _Giselle_ ," Raina sighed. "It's so tragically romantic."

Lea laughed. "I prefer my romances not so tragic."

"I love any kind of romance," admitted Raina with a shy smile.

"Speaking of romance…" Lea's eyes lit up and she lowered her voice. "Do you have any idea what's going on with Calli and your brother?"

"I was actually hoping Calli would be here too," Raina confessed. She tried not to frown. "Ryder seemed sad the last time I talked to him, and I think it has something to do with them."

Lea was silent for a moment, as though she was considering this new development. "Calli is a lot like Nolan," she finally explained. "They're dutiful almost to a fault. I suppose it'd be impossible for Calli not to be, with her dad being a general and everything."

"So you think she feels obligated to stay in the Selection?" Raina surmised.

"I know she does," shrugged Lea. "She wants to make sure that no one is here for the wrong reason or going to hurt Nolan."

It was a bold statement for the usually soft-spoken and gentle girl, but before Raina could help herself, she replied, "Well, I wouldn't let someone hurt Nolan."

Lea's eyebrows arched in surprise briefly before her face melted into a smile. "I wouldn't either," she agreed with a conspiratorial wink. "I should get some of these in the mail," she sighed glancing at letters. Raina helped her gather them.

Before she left, Lea paused to turn back towards Raina. "I just hope Calli knows it might be kind of nice to have an Illéa in the family," she noted. She smiled warmly at Raina before she added, "Either Illéa."

It was one of the rare instances where her last name didn't feel so bad, and Raina couldn't keep the beaming smile off her face.

After she left the Women's Room, she determined to track Calli down, starting with her room in the Selected's hall. It turned out to be Raina's lucky day, because Calli answered the door herself.

"Hi," Raina smiled, "I hope I'm not bothering you."

"No," Calli assured her, "I've just been staring at the same report for work for pretty much the last hour. What's up?"

"I was wondering if you might be able to help me pick out something to wear tonight," Raina lied. "I'm going to the ballet."

Calli paused and glanced down at her own outfit, which currently consisted of black leggings and an oversized sweatshirt. "You came to me for fashion advice?" she asked, the amusement clear in her voice.

"I just thought you've been to so many things with the royal family," Raina offered promptly. Lying was definitely not her strong suit, but she reminded herself it was for Ryder's sake.

"Uh, sure," shrugged Calli.

She followed Raina back to her room, where her maids had been busy on her look for the night. "Nothing too fluffy," Calli suggested as she considered the dresses. "It can make getting out of a car awkward." She touched a light colored dress made of floaty material. "This can photograph kind of sheer, so I would test it before you go if you want to wear this one."

Eventually, they picked a blush pink gown with short, off the shoulder sleeves and a delicate crystal belt at the waist. "Thank you for your help," Raina beamed at Calli as her maids took the dress away to steam it.

"You're welcome." Calli crossed her arms and turned a calculating look on Raina. "So, what's the real reason you wanted to talk to me?"

Raina tried to feign surprise. "I don't know what you mean."

Calli laughed. "There are about twenty-five girls in this castle that would've been better fashion advice than me," she countered.

"Well… I did want to make sure you're okay," Raina admitted.

She could see Calli's shoulders tense. "Of course," shrugged Calli with a tense smile.

"I talked to Ryder this morning," Raina added. "He sounded sad."

For the tiniest moment, Calli's eyebrows knit together, like it hurt her to hear this. "I don't think it's a good idea for Ryder and I to be… friends," Calli explained.

Raina bit her lip. "Because we're Illéas?"

"Oh, God, no," countered Calli. "Of course not." She sighed. "I just… I made a promise to Nolan to be here for him. And I have plans, I just started my job."

"Ryder would never try to stop you from working," Raina pointed out. "He knows what it's like to love your job. He loves being a teacher."

Calli smiled. "It's just complicated. I'm sorry."

"Me too," Raina frowned sadly. "It seems like neither of you are very happy."

There was a moment of silence before Calli swallowed deeply. A second later, she squared her shoulders, her posture impeccable as ever and her head held high. "Happiness is relative," she declared. "Have fun at the ballet tonight." Before Raina could say anything else, she retreated from the room.

Raina sighed and dropped onto her bed, feeling a little helpless. It was obvious to her how much Calli and Ryder liked each other, but they both seemed to be walking around with blindfolds on. She didn't have much time to anguish over the impossible situation Calli and Ryder had wrangled themselves into though, because her maids returned shortly after Calli's departure, ready to begin preparing her for the evening.

Raina was always amazed at what her maids could do, and she thanked them all profusely when they finished helping her get ready. Her dark brown hair fell in romantic, old Hollywood waves, and she wore a pair of silver heels with her blush gown. She had decided to forgo jewelry, even though the palace offered beautiful pieces, in favor of the diamond cross her father had gotten her years ago. Even without the extra sparkle, she felt like a princess.

Nolan was waiting for her in the entrance hall of the palace, and Raina stopped at the top of the stairs to take him in. As a child, she had thought that Oliver was the most perfect example of a prince—well, king—that there ever could have been. But after meeting Nolan, she realized that she had been wrong. This was clearly the role that Nolan was born for. Somehow, he managed to look more comfortable in tuxedos than he did in everyday clothes. They were perfectly tailored for him and seemed to give him an extra boost of confidence. While Raina noticed that Oliver slouched on occasion, Nolan's posture was always perfect. His brown hair was styled, but not overly so.

He was adjusting his cufflinks as she approached him, and he almost dropped one when he noticed her. "Hi," he said, his face breaking into a tentative smile. "You look beautiful."

Raina returned his expression. "Thank you," she beamed. "You look very handsome."

He blushed. "Uh, thanks." He offered an arm to her and led her outside to where their car was waiting. It was black and rather discreet compared to the limos that she always saw celebrities pulling up to events in. But she supposed the Royal Family weren't really celebrities. They were different.

Aside from the driver, two men sat in the front seat, and Nolan introduced Raina to them. "Steve and Michael are our protection officers for the night," he explained.

Raina's eyes widened a little in surprise. "We probably won't need them," Nolan assured her, "but kind of one of those occupational hazards."

"I guess I never thought about it," she admitted, feeling a little silly.

"It's okay," he shrugged. "Most people don't have to." He paused before he added, "You never needed security in Likely?"

Raina shook her head. "We live in a pretty small town and keep to ourselves," she explained, "People can be mean but never threatening." Nolan's brow furrowed, like he didn't like the thought of people being mean to Raina.

The drive from the palace to the Royal Theater didn't take long, but when the car slowed outside the entrance, Raina wished she would've had a little bit more time to prepare herself. Even from inside the car, she could see the blinding explosions of cameras and hear people yelling to get Nolan's attention. "Is it always like this?" she asked.

"Kind of," Nolan admitted. "For official events like this that are announced, there's generally a crowd." He straightened his jacket. "Just remember to smile, and look right under the flashes. It helps you not blink."

Raina nodded, and a moment later, the driver opened her door. She hurried around the car to join Nolan, and he offered a hand to her. She accepted it gratefully, because even though she tried to remind herself not to look directly at any cameras, it was discombobulating, and she felt a little blinded.

She heard people screaming their names and requesting they look in certain directions. Nolan occasionally paused and smiled or waved. But she also heard something a little more concerning.

Under the din of people that were excited to see them, there was jeering. For a moment, she thought it was because of her, because of who she was, and her stomach sank. But then, she heard exactly what they were saying, and in some ways, it made her feel worse.

"Peace for Illéa! Don't send us to war to die! Keep us out of the Russian mess!"

She understood. Raina abhorred violence more than anything, a complete pacifist. She hated that Ryder and Finn had joined the army and had told them both as much.

But she also could only imagine the guilt and responsibility that Nolan already felt without hearing people protesting an action that his family was being shoehorned into by Marid and Nikolai. She squeezed his hand a little tighter.

Eventually, they made it to the entrance of the theater, and it was like a different world as soon as they were inside. The director of the Royal Ballet greeted them, and they shook hands with a few board members before they were led to their box.

While Raina had never been in a royal box, it certainly lived up to the expectations she didn't know she had. The theater itself was gorgeous, with plush red drapery, gilded accents, a cherubic mural on the vaulted ceiling, and crystal chandeliers. The box was spacious, with much more roomy and comfortable looking seats than in the general admission area below. There was already a plethora of snacks waiting for them, complete with a bottle of champagne.

"Have you ever seen _Giselle?_ " Nolan asked as they settled in.

"Once," Raina confirmed, "It's beautiful. The lead has one of the most challenging dances at the end of Act I."

"I'll keep an eye out for it," Nolan noted. He picked up the champagne and offered a crystal flute to Raina.

"No, thank you," she declined politely.

"Oh." Nolan looked surprised.

"I just don't drink," she explained with a shrug.

"Oh," he repeated, setting his own glass down on the table.

"I don't mind if you do," she countered with a giggle, "I just don't like it."

Nolan picked his glass up again. "It kind of distracts from the fact that everyone in the theater is and will be staring at us until the show starts," he explained.

Raina glanced around and noticed that the majority of the patrons were indeed fixated on their box. "Oh, gosh," she muttered.

Nolan reached out and took one of her hands. "Just pretend they're not there."

"You're very calm," she noted.

"This feels like the easy part to me," he explained. "Dressing up and looking the part. It's when I have to make decisions or there's an interview and I give them something to dissect that it feels like the pressure is on."

Raina nodded, though she didn't quite find what they were doing easy. It was hard to realize that everyone in the room was focused on you. "It's really impressive, you know," she smiled at Nolan encouragingly, "that you can be so confident with so much attention on you."

Nolan shrugged. "I think it's just part of being a prince. I was raised for this."

She frowned. She'd noticed, through their discussions about his anxiety and in general, that Nolan had a tendency to undermine his accomplishments. It made her sad, because she wanted him to be able to see the person that had impressed her, the other Selected, and so many others, she was sure. "Doesn't make it less impressive," she countered. "You should be proud of yourself. You handle a lot."

A tentative smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "You've helped me feel like I can handle a lot more," he admitted.

"Then my time here has been a success, no matter what happens," Raina beamed.

The lights of the theater dimmed. Feeling more comfortable now that she couldn't see all of the stares and whispers, Raina gave an excited squeal. "It's starting!"

Raina had seen plenty of ballets before and danced in tons herself. But she had never seen anything like the Royal Ballet Company. They were incredible. Everything—the dancers themselves, the costumes, the sets—was on a level that she had never even imagined. She was completely spellbound, her eyes never leaving the stage. She cried when the title character died, her hand clinging to Nolan's for support. He didn't say anything, just put the other hand on top of hers as well to comfort her.

By the time the dancers took their final bows, Raina was exhausted from the emotional energy that she had spent enjoying the ballet. She stood and clapped voraciously.

"Did you like it?" Nolan asked. He was nervous to hear her reaction, feeling like he had performed and was being judged himself.

"I loved it!" Raina sighed. "It was so beautiful. They were the best dancers I've ever seen."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it. I wish we had time to meet the dancers, but it's usually too busy during a night show like this. We should actually get going," Nolan said. "We'll be able to leave out the back before everyone else, and I don't like making people wait too long."

Their guards led them through the theater to the back exit. Leaving proved much easier than arriving, with no cameras or protestors to complicate the experience.

After they slid into the car, Nolan turned his attention back to Raina. "Do you miss dancing in Likely?" he asked.

"A little," admitted Raina, "but I've practiced at the palace some. Lea told me I could use the studio downstairs when I liked."

"She used to do ballet too," Nolan added, "though I suspected the costumes were Lea's main motivation rather than love of dance."

Raina giggled. "I can see that."

"What else do you miss from Likely?" Nolan asked.

"My dad, of course," Raina instantly replied, touching the necklace he'd given her. "But it was really nice to get to see him at your birthday party." She paused as she considered her life at home. "Honestly, there's not much. Ryder and Finn are close by, and for the first time, I really have friends." She glanced at Nolan and blushed, "And… well, there's you."

Nolan blushed. Before he could respond, Raina added, "Actually, I do kind of miss being able to just go get a hamburger."

He had to laugh. "A hamburger?"

"They're my favorite!" grinned Raina.

"Well, you know we have hamburgers here in Angeles too," Nolan chuckled. "We can't exactly go get one—too much work to go into a restaurant without giving them notice—but would you want to pick something up on our way home?"

Raina nodded enthusiastically, and Nolan tried to scour his brain to think of the best burger place between the theater and the castle. He finally settled on a place called The Burg that his aunt used to take them to for milkshakes when they were kids. They ordered two burgers, a pile of fries to share, and Nolan got a milkshake, for old time's sake.

The pair didn't even wait until they got back to the castle, instead pulling their hot food from the bag. "So good," Raina sighed happily after she took her first bite.

"It does kind of hit the spot," Nolan agreed as he reached for his shake. "So, you love burgers. Can you tell me something else that I don't know about Raina Illéa?"

Raina considered the question as she munched on a fry. "I write poetry."

"That is much less surprising than burgers being your favorite food," Nolan laughed. "Just for fun, or as a job?"

"Well, I don't really think of it as a job," Raina countered, "but I did have a book of poems published last year."

"Really?" Nolan's eyebrows arched in surprise. "I feel like I would've heard of an Illéa becoming an author."

She stared down at the burger in her hands. "I didn't use my last name," she shrugged. "My publisher didn't think… well, you know how it can be."

"Sorry," Nolan muttered, "I didn't mean to…"

"It's okay," Raina assured him. "It really doesn't make me that sad anymore."

"It makes me hate Marid more," Nolan admitted, "Thinking about how he's made things harder for you. And Ryder. Heck, even your dad. He seemed like a pretty nice guy."

"He's the best," Raina smiled. "But… it's okay. I don't like hating people, even if they are as terrible as Marid. I just try not think about him most days. We share a last name, but he's not my family."

Nolan nodded. "That's a good way of looking at it."

Raina just smiled and took another bite of her burger.

"Can I ask you something?" Nolan asked. She nodded, her mouth to full to speak. "Why did you enter the Selection?"

There was silence as she slowly finished chewing. She set down her burger and shrugged. "A few reasons," she admitted. "I wanted to meet new people and see new places. I wanted to show people that not all Illéas are bad." She paused.

"And?" prompted Nolan.

When her eyes finally met his, she looked a little embarrassed but also hopeful. "I wanted to meet you… and just… see. See if we could maybe be happy together."

Nolan froze. Of course, he'd wanted to hear that she had entered for him. But it had seemed like too much to hope that someone would enter a contest like the Selection for just him. There were so many other perks of it—notoriety, opportunities, the financial compensation. But she had entered for _him_.

He set his burger down too and reached out for her hand, giving it a squeeze. They were so close in the backseat of the car that it would've taken little effort to lean forward and kiss her, but it didn't seem right with their junk food littering their laps and the protection officers in the front seat.

"I'm glad you entered," Nolan replied.

"Me too," breathed Raina.

They arrived at the palace a short time later, and Nolan offered to walk her back to her room. They walked side by side, so close but not quite touching. "What is this?" he asked, pointing to her arm.

"Oh," Raina smiled as she raised her forearm. He'd never realized it before, but there was a triangular tattoo on the inside of it. "It's the little dipper," she explained, "Ryder has one of the big dipper."

They paused, realizing they were outside her door. They both glanced at. Raina spoke first. "I had a really great time tonight. Thank you."

"Thank you," countered Nolan.

She looked amused. "I didn't really do anything."

"You're just… you," Nolan struggled to explain. "So sweet and kind, and I just feel good when I'm around you. So, I guess, just thanks for being you, Raina Illéa."

Her initial reaction seemed surprised. Nolan hesitated. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No," she assured him. "I just… I don't meet a lot of people who like me completely as I am, Illéa included."

"I don't meet a lot of people that like me completely as I am either, anxiety and all," Nolan chuckled.

"I think they would if you opened up to more people about it," countered Raina. "But I do. Really like you, I mean—completely as you are."

This was the moment. The impulse had lingered in the back of his mind for most of the night, but he didn't want to be overstepping or assuming that Raina felt the same as he did. But with this confirmation, he took a slow step closer to her. Raina inhaled, like she was preparing for the moment as well. Cautiously, allowing her every opportunity to push him back, Nolan slowly placed a hand on her cheek. Raina leaned into his touch, so Nolan went for it: he gently pulled her face towards his and kissed her.

Nolan would think about the night a lot in the days to come. If he had known how much things were about to change, he would have kissed Raina longer, held her tighter. But in his ignorance, as he couldn't have known, he simply smiled down at her lovely face, his green eyes lost in her hazel ones. "Goodnight, Raina," he whispered.

"Goodnight," she beamed as she reluctantly took a step away from him.

He watched her until she disappeared into her bedroom, his chest almost feeling constricted. Nolan was very familiar with not being able to breathe, as it was a common symptom of his panic attacks. But this type of breathlessness was different, and when Nolan finally did inhale, it was almost like his insides were rearranging themselves, making room for everything Raina made him feel.


End file.
